Against all odds
by Droseralex
Summary: The androids won. Alone and broken, Gohan wants nothing but to escape this godforsaken world before he fades away with it. Using an untested machine, he finds himself in a new world full of wonder and impossible people, yet he is not welcome. Can he heal and find redemption there, or will the ghosts from his past take it all away? (Revised!)
1. Farewell

**A/N: This story is being revised/edited. Chapters will change/shrink in the next weeks!**

**[ Against all odds ]**

**CHAPTER ONE: FAREWELL**

Ruins, desolation, relentless despair. Death.

Once upon a time, this had been a lush, wonderful city bustling with life. A technological utopia, where many of his childhood memories had flourished. Most of his friends had lived here once upon a time.

Just as many had fallen within this forsaken place.

Now the rubble of what used to be West City only served as a constant reminder of his absolute failure to stop _them_ in time. A monument to his unforgivable incompetence. This time there was no going back or second chances. No Dragon Balls to undo the damage. _This was his reality._

In the end, he had triumphed over the despicable_ androids_, but the price was steep and his victory had come far too late. It broke his spirit beyond measure, and even after all these years of struggles and desperate survival, he had found himself sinking into new lows. The loss of Trunks and Bulma hit him hard, and it had pushed him beyond his limits-both mental and physical.

Empowered by this newfound rage and a deep well of raw power, he had brutalized the androids swiftly-_far quicker than what they deserved-_and without mercy. Not even ashes remained of the sadistic machinations of Dr. Gero.

Peering into the remains of a partially broken mirror in the lab, the reflection of a tired, frazzled young man stared right back. The faded orange gi was torn in places, the shredded threads he had stitched back over and over barely holding together in some spots. One of the last pieces of his past he had refused to let go of. Onyx eyes dull, sunken and exhausted, his typically short spiky hair had grown longer and more ragged in the last few years. It was nowhere as long as his late father's wild style but it was nearly there.

If he had still been alive they could have been almost mistaken for doppelgangers. _Almost._

He frowned, his eyes focusing in yet another permanent reminder of the source of this nightmare and his stacking losses. '_If you ignored all these scars, maybe we'd be more alike.'_

Truly, he missed the old days when he could run wild and free in Mount Paozu with his mother and father. He was taken far too early. To think a heart virus could take out the most pure-hearted and powerful man on this planet. Even now it seemed preposterous, yet it happened.

He often wondered how everything would have turned out if his father had survived. That indomitable will of his allowed him to persevere through the darkest of days, his incredible luck and innate instincts ensuring he'd always _somehow_ persevere against all odds. For so many years Gohan had rejected the warrior spirit dwelling within him, instead choosing to follow the pacifistic, scholarly path his mother had wanted for him. A foolish endeavor, that was.

Now it mattered little. _There was no future._

Every loss made him focus further in honing his skills and raw power, only wishing to one day perhaps be even a shadow of the man his great father had been.

Pain surged through his chest again, the tightness squeezing the breath out of him. Another casualty surfaced in his mind. _Piccolo. _Gritting his teeth, he slammed his fist against the mirror, crushing it with absurd ease. The Namekian's visage and final moments resurfaced into his mind like a fresh wound...

– o –

"_Goh-Gohan. R-run. Now!" Piccolo tried his best to warn him, but it came out as strained, gurgling sputters through his bloodied, bruised lips. _

_At the very last moment, the Namekian had set off yet another clever distraction for the androids, but it came at a terrible price. __His sacrifice had sent the monsters into a wild and confused frenzy, the twin's rather short fuse working against them as he called upon most of his remaining ki to set off a few explosions a fair distance away from their position. __Blinded by their bloodlust and child-like curiosity to seek the loudest, brightest thing around, the androids shot towards the commotion, assuming their prey had fled there. A temporary distraction at best, but it was enough._

_If Gohan could make it, that was all that mattered._

_Gohan tried his best to comfort Piccolo in his arms, his smaller body making it somewhat difficult to cradle his dying friend's abnormally wide frame. Guilt rocked his frazzled mind, wishing he had been able to do something-anything-to prevent this. __How many times had Mr. Piccolo jumped in his defense without a second thought or regard for his well being, all because he wasn't strong enough?_

_Too many times._

"_I'm so sorry, Piccolo." Teary eyes roamed down to his mentor's limbs to survey the damage, his weeping intensifying in the process; his left arm had been severed at the elbow joint, muscles, ragged tissue hanging limply from the brutal wound site. On his lower body, where his right leg had once been there was just a crushed, ripped nub at the kneecap. A layer of small clots and scar tissue had developed around the outer edges of the wound, but it was far too obvious the trauma was beyond his regenerative capabilities now._

_Vital fluids poured rhythmically out of the severed arteries in his extremities with each ever-slowing heartbeat, his body unable to even temporarily constrict his blood vessels to curb the massive blood loss. _

_Gohan had not been initially involved in this battle and had arrived in the midst of it all, by which time the fatal damage had been already dealt. Deep down, knowing the android's brutality, he was certain Android 17 had been the culprit. While 18 was ruthless, she hated the idea of blood tainting her clothes. Not so much for her male counterpart; he truly enjoyed torturing others to the point he'd rip a victim limb by limb for his own sick amusement! _

_Goddamned androids!_

_Bloody spittle erupted from Piccolo's mouth with renewed vigor, his remaining clawed fingers grasping into Gohan's gi weakly as he tried to speak again. "R-un, y-you foolish boy! Go...**go** **now**!"_

_Staring up into the sky, the Namekian's eyes were unfocused, his breathing straining further as he began to choke on his own fluids. Wet, wheezing sounds drew Gohan's attention back to the ominous dark stain spreading through the remains of his tattered gi; a broken wail escaped the teenager as his anguish reached a new high. __So much blood was pooling out of the atrocious gap in his chest. Too many internal organs were either fatally damaged or downright vaporized by 17's piercing blast as it effortlessly tore clean right through his torso._

_A shot he took well aware of what it could do to either of them, meant to end Gohan's life mere seconds ago. __Nothing but a Senzu bean would be able to save him now. _

_All young Gohan could do was wail in grief as the imminence of his mentor's passing dawned on him, the sounds of explosions growing in the distance and nearing. "Mister Piccolo...please don't go." He pleaded, holding the fading Namekian tighter against him. He only hoped he could bring some sense of comfort and solace to his final moments of life before he was forced to flee._

_Catching on to the fact they had been fooled, the androids began to bombard their surroundings with reckless abandon, the overbearing ki detonations gouging deep craters wherever they impacted. They were done playing games and now they just wanted to completely annihilate the two largest threats to their carefree, genocidal adventures._

_Even at this distance, Gohan could feel the approaching shockwaves. With his adrenaline spiking further, the heart-wrenching pain worsened as he struggled with his fight or flight response and his desire to stay with his dying friend. He could now hear their laughter as they made their way back to their latest murder._

_Then, Piccolo let out one last breath...and he was gone._

_Those were his mentor's last torturous moments in this dreadful world, and with his passing, Gohan lost what little remained of his sense of normality and family. Even with Trunks and Bulma around, Piccolo's death left a void within him that hurt as deeply as the loss of his parents at the start of this accursed android fiasco._

_Running out of time, he had fled on foot to mask his energy and movements, unsure of their abilities to track or sense ki._

_Hours later he had returned to recover Piccolo's body for a proper burial._

_They anticipated this and had other wicked plans. Cruel as ever, they made sure nothing remained of his body, only leaving a few burnt shreds of his once white cape rammed against a metal rebar where his body once rested, billowing in the putrid winds of this dead city._

_That was the last straw._

– o _–_

Gohan blinked away the tears flowing freely down his cheeks. Every time the memories replayed in his mind he couldn't help but think of potential scenarios where his death could have been avoided. Same with Trunk's and Bulma's. A vicious cycle of memories haunting him, throwing his failures right back at him, that's what this hell was. He had nothing left here but fading memories, most of the freshest ones purely made out of overwhelming loneliness, pain, and a sense of loss.

With every passing day, the once rare suicidal whispers nagging at him became louder and more frequent. He refused to heed the call, focusing all of his energy and pain into relentless training.

After he had given the Briefs a proper burial next to Piccolo's symbolic grave site, the demi-Saiyan lost himself in the calling deep in his blood longing for retribution and absolution. He trained non-stop in the last partially functional Gravity Chamber previously owned by Vegeta, with Bulma being kind enough to maintain it in workable conditions. Sitting in the reinforced underground labs at a depth the androids would have a hard time detecting, he pushed himself to his very limits.

A temporary solution to a permanent problem.

Once the Gravity Room had ceased to function with Bulma's untimely passing, it had all slowly gone down a slippery slope of misery and depression. Tenuous training had helped him cope with the dark thoughts, but at best it just made it all bearable; for those demons lived within his mind, patiently waiting for him to give in to the eternal calling of the void.

Sparing another downcast glance around the dim and crumbling sub-level in one of Bulma's laboratories, Gohan let out a sigh of resignation, his red eyes still wet with tears. Only a few emergency lights remained active now, the majority either dead or flickering on and off. An apt physical reflection of his own decaying psyche.

Every now and then he could almost see a ghostly afterimage of his friends, and with those came the countless happy memories of days past that would never return. Those beautiful flashbacks were often a curse, for they contrasted deeply against the absolute and eerie silence that permeated the devastated city with unrelenting dread, even after the androids were long gone.

He loathed venturing outside. At one point he had buried as many of the fallen as he could, but even that became an overwhelming task, especially when it came to the children. It was just too much, and without someone to talk to he felt as if he was losing his sanity little by little. The world was pure, living negativity and death incarnate. He could not tolerate it any longer.

It was better this way. The world would flourish, the earth would heal and the survivors would rebuild. Perhaps one day in the far future, this world would return to its former glory.

"No more." Grim resolve marred his features as he set his sights on the beeping equipment nearby. With that, the last Saiyan in the world set his plan into motion.

Carefully stepping through fallen debris and damaged equipment, he collected the iridescent canister that contained the only reserves of the rare resource. Opening the access panel by the side of the Capsule ship, he carefully slid it into the receiving end of the ship's innards. A twisting motion locked it into place, internal motors shifting and transporting it into the very core of the Chronal Accelerator. Fluorescent tendrils of aquamarine light flowed upwards into the widening hull of the ship upon making contact with the powerful source of energy.

The anxiety surging within him urged him to move faster. He wasted little time jumping into the cockpit, snapping the body harness across his torso.

Yet again he noted that one of the yellow engines had a fading model number with the Capsule Corp. logo right below it marking it as a prototype in progress. Bulma had scribbled the word '_HOPE!'_ above it, and seeing her handwriting made his heart hurt again. She had often discussed the possibility of altering the events that lead to this apocalyptic future, their conversations often wandering long into the night. She had never disclosed the fact she had been so close to a successful test flight, and it was a fateful coincidence he had stumbled upon it further down in the labs as he scavenged for supplies before the level had fully collapsed.

Gohan shook his head, anger simmering with the recurring hesitation. This unintentional dawdling and reminiscing had gone for long enough! Before proceeding, he instinctively double checked his handiwork. It held an assortment of hardware he put together to finish the ship's interface. Grasping the wiring running into the guts of the ship, he nodded in satisfaction once the locking clamps clicked loudly. The patchwork wasn't the best, but then again his resources were awfully limited.

_'Relax. Everything should work fine. Reassuring thoughts, Gohan!' _At the very worst, it should be marginally functional. One thing was certain—if his calculations were correct and this was a success, it would be a very risky one-way trip unless he found another power source. A concern for later and _if _he survived this ordeal.

Two hissing sounds ensued from the engaging motors that sealed the cockpit's dome into place. Bursts of air escaped the vents surrounding the cabin as it was pressurized. A myriad of lights came to life throughout the whole cockpit, a pre-flight warm-up well underway.

Strings of information lit up the larger screens after diagnostic self-tests ran successfully.

_**Life support-active. Secondary energy core-online. Propulsion-active. Shield Generator-active. **_

_**Warning! Chronal Energy supply is limited. Recharge recommended before attempting travel. Potential coordinates may be beyond energy supply range. **_

An expected concern, but it didn't matter now.

_**Bypass_**_

_**WARNING! Current vessel condition poses an extreme hazard for travel. Initialize jump anyway?**_

He could feel the heat building in the ship's guts beneath him as it reached its optimal output. His hand hovered over the haptic monitor displaying the _**jump**_ command in flashing bold letters, his heartbeat accelerating with a sudden burst of adrenaline.

Unconsciously, his eyes went up to face the somber surroundings again. Yet another set of lights flickered off permanently.

There was a significant likeliness the machine would not work. This kind of travel was uncharted territory. Even with Bulma's genius, this facet of technology had never been previously experimented on or attempted successfully.

He'd take the risk.

Anything of potential value he gathered had been thrown in a tough brown backpack, sitting by his feet. Capsulized tools, diagnostic equipment, a few boxes worths of unmarked capsules, and even the dead Gravity Chamber. The coordinates were stuck as randomized, the system unable to accurately accept input or properly calibrate without Capsule Corp's former large processing power and satellites.

Fingers trembling, he still found the conviction he needed to push the button. "I'm sorry, everyone...I must do this." He whispered to himself with solemn finality, lips set into a tight line.

Too late to turn back now. The shield generator spooled up first, shimmering technicolor particles enveloping the hull of the small vessel with a nigh-impenetrable defense. Gohan tightened the harness across his body further, his grim, resolute expression fading as it mixed with a degree of anxiety...and the faintest glimmer of hope.

With the exotic Chronal energy pulsating below the cockpit much louder now, the timeship began to produce a roaring hum that started to shake its brittle surroundings apart. The six landing prongs receded into a slimmer position by the chassis as the ship gently lifted off and levitated a good five feet from the lab's damaged flooring, the antigravity engines on each nacelle maintaining it aloft.

White sparks erupted from its metallic frame, the tooth-like protrusions surrounding the cockpit base starting to spin rapidly until they became a mere blur. Takeoff caution alarms sounded within the cockpit, the vibrations caused by the energy buildup making it feel as if the ship was going to shake itself apart. The lab grew fuzzy through the cockpit window, glowing erratically with bright flashes as the surge in power intensified until it reached its absolute peak.

"Come on, _come on!_" He urged, growing worried as the energy barrier began to spark as it got battered by falling debris.

The emergency lighting in the lab flickered in unison multiple times, struggling against the harsh effects of Chronal decay. Pushed beyond its limits, the strained electrical grid blew out in a shower of sparks, plunging everything into permanent, total darkness.

A painfully high pitched electronic shriek made itself known, followed by what sounded like deeply sonorous, bone-jarring thunder. Both sounds intertwined and amplified even further, the sharp pain rattling through Gohan's skull and spine, eliciting a miserable hiss from him. It felt as if both androids had smashed a fist right against the back of his neck. Even covering his ears did little to dull the ache, the noise literally conducting itself through his flesh and bones, drilling right into his every sense and nerve ending mercilessly.

Grabbing onto his chest harness tight enough to turn his knuckles white, he closed his eyes, trying his best to block the pain out with meditative breathing. It reached a crescendo, and his breathing technique did little as the deafening cacophony threatened to rob him of his consciousness through sheer sensory over-stimulation.

Then, he felt an unnerving chill run down his spine as his body began to experience the discombobulating effects of forces beyond his understanding pulling and tugging at his very being. He let out a pained howl, teeth sinking into his lips hard enough to draw blood as he fought with every fiber of his being to remain conscious.

Timed with the climaxing bundle of dreadful sounds, a vantablack event horizon forcefully tore a gash through reality itself as a tiny but quickly developing speck. Its rim crackled in a myriad of alluring colors, widening alarmingly fast to form and shape itself around the craft for a brief moment. A tenth of a second passed before lightning as bright as the sun itself surged forth from every inch of the timeship, its outline stretching upwards as the onset of time dilation took place, zapping the vessel into non-existence with an ear-splitting sonic boom powerful enough to pulverize a small mountain.

Unable to resist the abnormal tear in space-time and the subsequent expansive wave of energy, what remained of the weakened Capsule Corporation building exploded into a small brilliant ball of fire as its superstructure flash-melted away.

Around the space-time aberration, spider web-like cracks shot outwards, its edges flickering dangerously around the void as it spaghettified and de-atomized its surroundings, fighting to spread further as most black holes inevitably tried to do. Unfortunately for it and all of its unnaturally created brethren, the indomitable forces behind the universe itself denied it of this opportunity with all of their might. Becoming unstable now that its creator had also departed, the void let out a hissing cry of defeat, finally dispersing and folding into itself with the same amount of force that was originally needed for its creation.

In the blink of an eye, the explosion twisted itself into a crushing implosion, its sudden departure unleashing an extreme vacuum in its place as real-time resumed. The once imposing building and all of its burning sub-levels collapsed into themselves, the minuscule singularity crushing everything in a five-block radius with a blooming mushroom cloud. Once the rubble settled, it became one with the desolate, burning cityscape and ruins surrounding it, leaving only a large crater where it once stood.

An unremarkable crater that could be easily mistaken for the many others left in the wake of the android wars in this dying, desolate world.

* * *

**North City**

**-Northern Mountains-**

Meanwhile, hundreds of miles away, buried deep in a mountain range no living being knew about, a secret underground laboratory came to life.

A large supercomputer beeped madly for the first time in many years, working furiously upon detecting this surge of exotic particles. It was the chance of a lifetime now that all other options had failed with secondary power sources for its precious project's completion nearly depleted. The second model would suffice as a resource for its advancement. Any further development would be beyond the system's reach or influence.

Rife with advanced technology, the servo machines within it set to work, re-activating two green pods and placing them within a thickly shielded stasis field transport. Looming above the pod was a massive device easily dwarfing the contents of the room, inactive energy coils running down its length, parts of it hollow or incomplete.

Desperate with purpose, the system cannibalized itself, nanobots hastily installing and soldering a variety of parts into the tool to repurpose it as fast as it could; the window of opportunity was dwindling, the scar was closing too quickly. Ready with seconds to spare and thrumming with the collective power of the base's damaged energy reserves, the device's pronged end shot a needle-thick string of light into a nanoscopic point just beyond the transport.

Typically, this would have produced undesirable if somewhat impressive results, ending only with a magnificent blast capable of drilling through a few hundred meters of steel or rock. On an average day, the forces holding together the fabric of reality itself were highly resilient to external stimuli and would have shrugged this puny attempt at an intrusion.

However, at this very moment, the shrinking remains of a large fissure were stitching themselves together, with the small inner portions resembling scar tissue still relatively unstable, paper thin and pliable. This exploitable vulnerability was unlikely to happen ever again. If the machine had an emotional matrix, it would have thanked the deities and the other unknown, much larger force generating the anomaly for providing it with the opening to do what it was built to do.

Striking against the strained, weakened fabric of the universe, the piercing beam of energy hit the healing tear with unrelenting ferocity. First, it wavered, buckling inwards until it split wide open. Lightning and obsidian death surged outwards, the very foundations of the cave shuddering as they began to lose their structural integrity.

It had to finish its mission quickly. The opening wouldn't last more than a few seconds, for the energy required to maintain it was nearly exerted. Seconds from now, the facility would plunge into total power failure. Two pneumatic arms moved the vessel towards the rupture, bringing its outermost edge to touch the event horizon's maw.

In a flash, it was gone.

As it had happened to the previous but much larger breach, the resulting feedback upon its collapse ravaged the secret base. The large mountain coughed up a copious amount of crust and dirt from the destroyed cave's once-secret, sealed opening, followed by the vacuum-like implosion that crushed it all beneath millions upon millions of tons of rocks. The artificial intelligence within faded away instantly, but in its final milliseconds of digital life, it was able to finally come to peace after completing its master's dreams...

* * *

_Time and space._

_The intricacies and wonders behind both concepts have always been a subject of great debate and speculation among all sentient beings throughout the ages. Truly, the two were convoluted affairs most mortals couldn't even begin to comprehend beyond their most basic facets; their primordial, far-reaching roots intertwined as one, spreading deep into the very foundations of reality itself. Just as those forces were all-powerful and unyielding, in some cases, they needed to be malleable, for they had the need to accommodate and adapt to the inherent, incessant evolving chaos that existed within the infinite universes it harbored._

_Being at the epicenter of the entirety of creation, they were and would always remain some of the biggest sources of inspiration for many great works of literary and filmographic fiction. Their infinite breadth and virtually endless potential begged to be transcribed into the blank pages of an interminable book; every single story awaiting restlessly for a creative soul to breathe life into them._

_Even if a million writers filled a billion libraries' worth of space with said stories, it would still never be enough to tell them all. Not by a large margin. Some said that for every riveting tale told, hundreds more would remain unsung and forgotten, eventually becoming mere whispers and faded memories that would inevitably end lost to the cruel, unstoppable winds of time._

_It was due to the intrinsic nature of it all that in the end, with so many great minds at work, that you'd likely find some of these tales were partially or fully based on stories and events that had truly taken place. __Truthfully, it was a near certainty that at least half of them were based on true events that transpired once upon a time, with some of them even unfolding _**_now._**

_Somewhere out there in the vast cosmos, one of the many untold and forgotten stories was coming to life. . ._

* * *

It was a temporary stalemate, only lasting the briefest of moments. Even with all of the energy already thrown against it, the ship continued to struggle in its attempts to pierce the pliable and _very_ resilient final barrier standing between itself and the developing, wormhole. Those defiant forces were subjected to a final burst of Chronal particles that tore it apart, the few distended threads still holding it all together snapping apart like a frail twig.

A deep wound exploded out and into the singularity, and with the obstruction out of the way, the pull of the void surged forth to grasp everything around it with unrivaled fury, especially focusing on that which had forcefully roused it into being.

One moment the ship was there, and the next, it simply ceased to be. Wisps of elongated, disassembled matter faded into nothing, as everything in the area—including light—was swallowed by the eternal penumbra within the ravenous wormhole. Erupting out of the other side shaped like a stringy, pinhead-sized, developing glimmer of light, the timeship's unraveled form then twinkled back into existence. The forceful reassembly made its forward momentum soar to sub-light speeds, impelling it into a wild, uncontrollable, spiraling tumble through the vortex.

Arcing lines of ghastly lightning lashed out of the tunnel-like structure, occasionally impacting the ship's shield with a spectacular blaze of sparks. Going against the laws of nature by remaining active, the corridor shifted in size erratically, threatening to collapse upon itself at a moment's notice. Every so often, when the vortex's intermittent shrinking and twisting occurred at a rate faster than the engines could adapt to, the ship's hull and struts would skirt and bounce against it. Glitter-like strings of fiery energy trailed behind it as the protective outer layer was shed. If it were to waver at these critical moments, there was a very real possibility the trip would end abruptly.

_Permanently. _

It was during one of these struggles with a significant collision that Gohan's body was jolted hard to the left, the sudden movement stirring him awake. His heavy eyes fluttered open, feeling irrationally flustered by his lapse of awareness. After the timeship had discharged a bone-jarring _boom_ right out of its innards, everything had gone straight to hell.

He let out a pathetic, pained groan, partially coming to his senses. Thoughts scrambled and eyes still fighting him to remain open, he merely managed to right himself into a more comfortable position against the cockpit seat before his body slackened again, passing out with the effort.

Waking minutes later, a throbbing migraine welcomed him. He winced hard, tears involuntarily welling up in his eyes as he felt his heartbeat pounding in his temples. Brief but lengthening lapses of consciousness allowed him to retain enough cognizance of the fact that he was still okay; the vessel was still active, in-transit and shielding him from deadly harm. His muscles were stiff, and it felt as if all of his nerves were firing at once with painful spasms that froze him in place.

After another obscure gap in time, the rattling dwindled to bearable levels, easing some of his constant achings. Distancing itself from the crude, explosive rupture it created, the timeship eventually found itself shifting into a less volatile, stable sector of the spiraling vortex. The electronic sounds of internal systems restarting brought forth a full stop to the shaking, stabilizers re-activating with a faint, pleasant hum.

With all of the erratic bursts of light dimming to manageable levels, his pupils were then able to adapt to the point that he could see properly again. Still rather disoriented and exhausted, he breathed out a worn out sigh, settling for lazily watching the enigmatic and entrancing wisps of hyper-extended light and lightning that flew past the ship, the tone of his skin flickering with the respective array of colors as they shot by. Deadly, but so beautiful.

He let out a barely repressed yawn. How was something so breathtaking and lethal lulling him to sleep? Frazzled and with his drowsiness worsening, Gohan couldn't help it but embrace the urge to doze off, dropping his head back against the headrest on the seat, the lightly padded surface soothing his headache. It didn't take him much longer to succumb to the temporary reprieve in the form of uneasy, shaky sleep.

…

...

...

_Something was wrong._

He nearly jumped out of his seat in a panic when a set of very concerning klaxons screeched into being on the console, growing louder by the second. As if on cue the ship-wide tremors resumed.

Peering into the path ahead did not ease his worries. Now the corridor itself appeared to have shrunken in diameter, the deformities which spewed out turbulence and lightning increasing in quantity, inward prominence, and intensity. Below him, he could hear the timeship's own propulsion kicking into overdrive for the first time as it was forced to actively evade and lurch whichever way to avoid the largest, most dangerous abnormalities.

Mental haze fading by a clarifying surge of fear, Gohan leaned forward, his fingers dancing across the controls as he sifted through sensor suites and diagnostic windows in an urgent search for answers.

_**Warning! Chronal reserves low. **__**Warning! Shielding integrity decaying. **_

_**WARNING! Unable to maintain Chronal Corridor! **_

_**\- BRACE FOR UNSCHEDULED TRANSITION -**_

The ship suddenly lurched, heading right into a collision course with the swirling, stormy walls of the corridor itself.

Gohan didn't get a chance to process the severity of the dire warnings he had just read. His body did not even get an opportunity to react to the deep, instinctual sense of impending doom that tried to crawl up his gut the moment he noticed the sudden change of direction into certain death. Every bodily function slowed down until it completely ceased. There he stood rigid, unblinking, and not breathing as if he was frozen in time. A barely visible translucent sphere had sprung around his body and cockpit seat; the ship's safety contingencies deploying a one-time emergency stasis field.

Neon green fissures along the outer hull roared to life, thrumming with unbridled power as they flared up brighter than ever before. Deep within the heart of the ship, its artificial intelligence bypassed all built-in safeties in an attempt to push the Chronal Accelerator core's output several magnitudes beyond its set parameters for an immediate emergency breach out of the vortex. Any delays would lead to imminent death.

Ready as it would be, the ship's final large caliber burst of Chronal particles exploded out of its domed nose, tearing a new temporospatial puncture as the swirling wall of death grew closer and closer. The rumbling tremors started anew, with the earlier mild shudders of turbulence returning with renewed vigor, their intensity now shaking everything apart. The final inertial dampener then failed, burning up in a blaze of glory midway through the escalation. Conduit harnesses snapped, their spilled wires hanging loosely out of the consoles and side paneling, small fires blazing upon their exposure and ensuing short-circuiting.

Through it all, Gohan remained motionless, with every single piece of airborne material harmlessly bouncing off and away from the impervious bubble surrounding him. The AI disregarded the warnings screaming at it of ever stacking system failures. It increased forward speed, diverting energy to strengthen its forward shield to act as a battering ram, bracing for impact.

With only tens of meters between itself and its target, a pinprick of light roared to life, the unnatural event twitching and bubbling as it was forced to form a bridge into the unknown, the void within it positively palpitating with restrained fury as it formed on the vortex just in time for the ship's nose to contact it. The external coating of glimmering energy twisted into angry orange and red hues, straining against the feedback radiating from the nearby vortex wall _and _the event horizon's terrible power as it tried to disassemble the vessel before it even completed its odyssey through it.

Intangible electromagnetic pulses surged forth, splashing against the wavering energy barrier. With their deflective capabilities being severely impaired in an effort to shield the vessel from the most dangerous effects of raw, untempered physics currently ramming into them, they buried themselves deep into every vulnerable chip, board, and screen within reach. Flames shot up from beneath the cockpit as a secondary generator went out, spewing up and out into a side of the center console. The affected consoles and screens flickered until they went offline as their power supplies and internals melted.

Drifting out of control as it exited the unstable event horizon at speeds beyond its structural limits, the sheer ferocity of the turbulence doubled, the still intact panels and hardware within the cockpit now snapping and falling off their hinges and enclosures, sending bursts of arcing electricity everywhere.

_Pop._

Just like that, the stasis field around him quivered away until it collapsed. Affected by the passage of time and vulnerable to all external forces once more, Gohan let out a chortled gasp for air, only to find his lungs resisting any attempts to draw in precious air. His panicked eyes darted around the ship in bewilderment at the chaotic commotion, the brief lapse in time and awareness from the moment he had read the warnings to _this _mess sending his mind reeling.

He had little time ponder on this any longer, for his eyes could only focus on the chaos of fire, sparks and ship parts exploding around him and _onto _him_. _Cursing in pain, he raised his arms to protect himself in his restricted position from the massive assortment of debris pummeling him from all angles.

Everything froze once more. This time, it was him _and _the ship. Those wickedly unpleasant, scream-inducing sensations of pulling, twisting and crushing poured into his body for the second time that day—even as he could not move or think—until another blinding flash of light signaled the end of his trek.

Local time resumed its pace around and within the timeship, which let out a final, thunderous jolt of strain from its guts. The sudden deceleration and force behind it tore apart the last two intact console screens, ripping Gohan's left safety harness off its metal frame as the bolts securing it were torn like wet tissue paper. A few hundred pounds worth of equipment then crashed around _and_ upon him.

He couldn't feel it this time. Body limp and unresponsive, his head and shoulder smashed right against the failing but still unyielding enough energy shield. Draining the last drops of energy out of the whole ship with that impact, it too fizzled away.

– – – – – –

**TO BE CONTINUED . . .**

– – – – – –

**A/N:**

_Please be aware I am working hard on editing/revising this story. I've trimmed a good 12k+ words out of it to improve the pace and flow of it. Chapters will be merged as well-I apologize in advance for any confusion for any sudden loss of chapters/reviews. _

_Please be aware English is not my first language(I'm a Spanish speaker); you might notice a few odd/unusual/rare choice words used. I'm working on this on my own, proof-reading and checking for any grammar/spelling issues to the best of my capabilities._

_I hope you enjoy this adventure as much as I am already!_


	2. Mirai Ward Incident

**A/N: This story is being revised/edited. Chapters will change/shrink in the next weeks!**

**[ Against all odds ]**

**CHAPTER TWO: MIRAI WARD INCIDENT**

The sporadic sound of sparks blending in with the unpleasant odor of charred electronics roused him from his impromptu slumber.

Forcing his weary eyes open, he let out a few hacking coughs, his lungs burning with the effort. While trying to take in a deep breath, a piercing pain erupted over the lower right side of his rib cage where the body harness cradled him, forcing him to hiss out all of the inhaled air. Kami, that hurt.

A dim and hazy cockpit greeted him, the smoke thickening further to the point he couldn't see anything past the ship's dome, its glass coated with heavy condensation. Fumbling around for the harness release button on the side that still held him to the seat, he finally found its indentation and pressed it. He braced as best as he could before gravity reclaimed him, still unable to compel enough energy below him to slow his fall. He dropped out and sideways, face-first into the mess of ship parts that once were its controls.

_Crack. _His forehead painfully smashed right against the glass, hairline fractures developing and spreading forth from the impact point. He let out a curse, his tender chest landing on top of a loosened and very blunt piece of hardware. Spewing out a few more wet, wheezy coughs as he tried to push himself up onto his side, he noted with some concern he left some bloody spittle on the light gray surface of the cockpit. Did he get a concussion? It would explain that faint, annoying ringing in his ears and how dull and foggy his senses felt.

Considering what he had just done, he was lucky to be alive.

Gohan ran a trembling hand over the glass, rubbing away the condensation to get a glimpse of what was waiting for him outside. It was to no avail; it appeared to be marred and glazed.

The air in the cabin felt so humid, stuffy and outright polluted. He could almost feel the ship's cramped interior shrinking around him, its dreadful grip tightening around his body like a boa about to crush its prey. His breathing quickened, his body starting to hyperventilate. Deep down he knew what it was; a nasty sense of creeping claustrophobia had started to root itself into his mind. His heart was going haywire, palpitations thrumming through his chest with the resurfacing old memories he had thought long forgotten and buried in the dust. He had to get out of this tin can at once.

_Raditz. _The bastard's name shot out of the murky, cobweb-filled depths of his memories like an arrow to bury itself right into the forefront of his mind. That fiasco left some deep psychological scars he hadn't thought of in many years. Then again, he hadn't truly been in any scenario where he needed to stick himself in a tight, oppressive space that would make them resurface.

Muscles coiled up, his hands grabbed onto the nearest bits of loose hardware he could find and he squeezed them _hard. _Whatever it was shorted out and crumbled to bits with the force, somewhat easing his efforts to repress the unwanted turmoil of memories and emotions threatening to take over his rational thoughts. The anger that had surged nearly made him want to tear his way out of the ship on a whim; a thought he instantly regretted. For the life of him, he couldn't figure out why he was having such a hard time reining in his flaring emotions.

Vertigo reared its ugly head as he attempted to push himself up further, his perception swirling and spinning in ways that made his stomach seize up. Breathing in through his mouth was a mistake, as it threatened to force bile up his throat, aggravating the rib pain while at it too. It took an inordinate amount of concentration to coordinate his limb movements, the throbbing headache from earlier still distracting him enough to make him hesitate.

That nagging urge to _move _kept worsening. Getting himself into a kneeling position in the cramped space, he hastily pulled on one of the emergency release latches embedded on the side panels of the cockpit, ensuring to keep a hand on the inner frame to avoid falling back. The pressurized cabin opened before him with a loud hiss, a small portion of the safety glass cracking further as it scraped against its rough landing site. To his chagrin, its motors screeched to a halt, leaving only a couple of feet of space to crawl out of on either side of the dome. He gathered his wits and coordination as best as he could through the fog of misery, warily dropping back down to crawl out of the smoking ship.

The obsidian, sweltering hot surface under him crackled and sizzled as he got himself out of the ship on his knees and forearms, the portions of his skin contacting the ground warming up to the point they started to burn. Small welts formed on his elbows and forearms as if he had taken a point-blank ki blast, the smell of clothing burning up invading his nose as portions his tattered gi fell apart as ashes.

_That was as much physical punishment he was willing to take. _Calling upon the faint but now tangible growing wisps of energy within, he willed it to surge forth as a ki barrier, the pain and damage stopping altogether with a flare-up of ki.

He had to hold onto the bent outer metal frame of the cockpit window for leverage, for even standing up was a massive chore. His muscles trembled as he got into a partial half kneeling position, finally moving past the ship's dreadful confinement. His legs trembled something fierce, slowly but surely recovering after a few shaky attempts to get up. On the final successful push, he let out a toothed, defiant snarl of triumph.

Disapproving of his hasty actions, his body reveled against him with renewed vigor. Hacking fits erupted out of his chest, devolving into awkward, uncontrollable spasms that made him dizzy, ribs blossoming with bright flashes of pain that forced him to hunch over. What felt like minutes passed before the spasms were over with. Feeling out of breath—pain be damned—Gohan took the deepest breath he could until his ribcage's tenderness reached a very uncomfortable level.

Clean air. _Very fresh, clean, rejuvenating air _entered his lungs. He was startled to find out how quickly his mental haze diminished as he let more of this wonderfully pure air invade his body. Situational awareness surged forth like a speeding truck smashing into him, his instincts flooding with an uneasy sense of open vulnerability at his new surroundings. Wary, he let his eyes roam beyond his form for the first time since he stepped out of the ship.

_New surroundings. _He had actually _landed_ somewhere else what was _not _the decrepit, depressing remains of West City—or any nearby city for that matter. _It had worked. _Frowning, his eyesight shifted up and away, right into the foreign urban area. Smoke blocked his visibility to a degree, but even then he could still make out the shape of large, somewhat familiar structures around him.

Civilization.

All of his thoughts drifted back to Bulma's wrecked ship and the possibilities of the tech falling in the wrong hands. He doubted he'd have any trouble fending off any small scale attacks, but without knowing who or what was out there and their respective power it was all a gamble. His ki was nowhere near where it should be and he didn't know how long it'd take for him to recover.

Stumbling back into the smoking machine reinforced the splitting headache, which now felt like someone was banging a mallet into a set of drums. He did his best to search around the cockpit for the small backpack with his personal belongings, the feeling of vertigo returning with his sudden drop onto a belly crawl, albeit this time it was bearable. Luckily, it was still resting snugly under the cockpit chair where he had left it. Its shoulder straps were flung over his arms to let it rest safely on his back.

Wheezy, bloodied coughs erupted from his mouth anew, the noxious fumes invading his lungs threatening another spell of dizziness. Once he got out and up—still requiring an annoying amount of effort—he focused on the ship's boxy, hinged outer hull panels. There he tinkered with them until he found the capsulization system. It still amazed him how resilient these devices were. Once he punched in the security code, it complied with a positive _beep._

Taking a few flaky uneven steps back out of caution, Gohan watched the timeship vanish with a loud and strained _poof _into its compact, capsulized form bearing the number 7 on its base. Upon deactivation it released a veritable amount of steam out of the tiny side vents around the plunger, quickly becoming inert and safe to carry while it blasted away a large portion of the lingering smoke. He unzipped a side pouch on his backpack, throwing the capsule into it. He doubted he'd be messing with this one for quite some time, anyway.

With that taken care of, he returned to his current priority; surveying this new place. He wasn't truly shocked to find his earlier assumption to be correct—he was in fact in a town, maybe a city. He was also standing on the bottom a rather sizable, deep and sweltering hot crater. The ship's energy output and the forces it manipulated—even as it ran out of fuel—were so immense it melted through every material it as if it were butter, turning it all into a round, charred, superheated surface.

Feeling uncertain about his ground mobility, he closed his eyes briefly, attuning his mind to his core. He was thrilled to sense the earlier faint trickle of ki was now blossoming into a small pool of usable energy, the somnolent reserves deep inside finally starting to yield to his will. Imparting a small portion beneath himself, he used the coalesced energy to lift his body into a hover at what should have been ground level, an arm still resting over his tender ribs.

Beyond the crater, he could see a mixture of unknown gray, blocky, multistory buildings with similarly shaped glass window panels, ostensibly built out of concrete and other similar composites. The ones nearest to him were in tatters. Thoughts instantly drifting to the androids, he examined the damage to the buildings and street with a degree of suspicion and paranoia. He was able to disregard the concern quickly; most of the visible wreckage was not caused by ki blasts.

There was no doubt...the terrible powers the timeship wielded and meddled with through his rough, turbulent arrival were to fully blame. A sickening feeling hit the pit of his stomach, his physical aches receding with the shock of seeing the sheer devastation he had unwillingly caused. _He _was to blame.

Street lights sputtered their last dying sparks, the nearest one to him flash-melting and warping in a single spot to the point it formed an upside-down V-shape. All of the street fixtures down the road did not fare any better, their bulbs gone as even the metallic top of the enclosure was partially molten, drooping downward with black smoke heaving out of them. Darkness beckoned him from the inside of all of the shattered windows around him. Not a single one nearby or further away was illuminated by interior lighting.

A quick inspection of the damaged vehicles let him breathe in relief; he could not see any casualties. However, the whole street looked like a miniature, self-contained apocalypse. _It reminded him too much of them and their destruction._

Looking past the epicenter, he discovered those areas appeared to be in an otherwise livable state, thank Kami. Countless commercial venues of varying sizes and purposes dotted each large building up until the end of the road, where another set of structures prevented him from seeing anything beyond. The traffic signals were smoldering there too.

At least there was no obvious or life-threatening damage to anything beyond his immediate surroundings. It appeared most if not all of the people had a chance to flee or go into hiding, which was both good and bad. Good for the fact they were safe and sound, bad because he'd seemingly annihilated a chunk of their city for no good reason in what could be considered an unwarranted attack.

He'd have to figure a way to solve this, hopefully in a peaceful manner. Eyes roaming back to the city block, he noted the ruffled but otherwise healthy trees dotting the outer rim of the wide sidewalks. How long has it been since he had seen a healthy, thriving tree? Six, seven years? Longer?

Raising his head up into the sky itself he was delighted to see a beautiful shade of crisp aquamarine emerging from the last bits of dispersing smoke above the buildings, a small number of low-level clouds lazily drifting away. Every single thing he was experiencing here conflicted with such a long, dreary stretch of his past memories. His brain was having a hard time grasping the exponential, drastic change.

It brought back the faces of the two bastards responsible for all of his misery. Merely thinking about them made his blood boil. Their death was too painless. If only they could be revived to be pummeled into the afterlife one more time; he'd take his time tearing them apart. As much as he hated to admit it, he truly desired to hurt them with every fiber of his being. To multiply their misery tenfold. Beg for mercy and regret their decisions, to make them wish for the afterlife and hell they deserved to be in.

Through all of these dark thoughts, there was a shred of sadness about the whole prospect that he could never shake off. A part of him deep down knew this shouldn't have been who he was. Could he ever get rid of the corruption they had imparted into his mind and soul? The physical scars were nothing, but these thoughts...they refused to go. He had not heard from his father in the afterlife either, nor any of his family members. Not even _that_ was given to him for comfort.

Did he deserve a happy ending? _Was _**this **a happy ending?

It didn't matter. He was here now.

Once the initial shock regarding his surroundings passed, the aches wasted little time to make their presence known again. He'd worry about his other physical ailments soon enough. _This _was nothing compared to some of the damage he'd taken over the years.

"They truly aren't here. Those bastards never tainted this place..." The words tried to surface through his dry, burning throat, but nothing came out besides raspy sounds. Still, they cemented themselves into his psyche, easing a minute portion of the mental anguish bothering him for so long. Gohan almost resorted to slapping himself across the face to fully ascertain this wasn't a dream either, a calloused hand running through his disheveled hair.

_It all just felt so surreal._

The giddy and ecstatic feeling of surviving the whole ordeal in the machine temporarily overpowered and tempered the unavoidable, oncoming, dreadful sense of guilt at the devastation he had caused. He knew his mind well, and it was just a matter of time until the mental tempest would come back roaring at him. He had to soak in this moment for as long as he could, for he knew very well this mess would likely drag him down a very messy path one way or the other soon enough.

Dying without atonement would have been his worst fears realized.

_'Where am I exactly, though?' _He mused. So many conflicting emotions and theories raged within. Was he still in—

"Y-you there! Freeze right now!" A hesitant masculine voice drew him out of his thoughts.

Turning around without even thinking, Gohan's mind whirred to a halt, a smidgen of vertigo returning with the sudden twisting motion. Any sense of frustration or self-criticism he should have felt at his lapse of awareness was fast forgotten, his paramount focus was on the fact that he had just encountered a breathing, _living_ human being. Hostile or not..._another human being!_

Hearing the voice of somebody else that wasn't Bulma or Trunks brought forth an even stronger turmoil of emotions to his weary heart. Nostalgia, the yearning for human interaction, laughter, affection. All the facets of normal life his world and life had been missing for so long; every single precious thing he had the opportunity to experience as a child, forcefully ripped away and destroyed by the bastard twins in the blink of an eye.

Handgun still pointed in Gohan's relative direction in a threatening manner, the nervous, somewhat overweight dark-haired officer barked some more questions at him, all of which went unheard. In that very instant, the officer's features and presence had blurred, becoming inconsequential. His voice had done it.

Like a lighthouse sparking to life in the middle of a dark, tumultuous sea, the fog plaguing him dispersed. Gohan's keen senses explosively emerged from their unwanted slumber, catching up with his current situation and environment far too quickly. Glued to the spot, his shoulders slackened, a faraway look overtaking his features as the massive amount of sensory input smashed into his psyche.

_Life._

He could now feel the faint ki signatures of all the people surrounding him, and it hit him like a mighty country-sized tsunami. There were _so many _specks of light flickering and flashing before his formerly dark and barren mindscape_, _their reach extending so far beyond, perhaps even hundreds of miles away without him even trying to focus on them. Then the sounds of typical life invaded his sensitive ears. Far-away vehicle engines chugging along, horns blaring sporadically, birds chirping. The distant voices and whispers of scared, confused citizens.

Sirens, distant but their volume intensifying.

_Millions of beacons and so many sources of sound. So much life and activity. __Too much._

His hands started quivering lightly as nausea crashed right back into his gut, the steady hover he had kept so far wavering downwards ever so slightly. It all came too fast.

Perhaps it was worsened by the disorienting side effects of tampering with forces he had no business meddling with or his own long term isolation. Perhaps it was a combination of all of the above _and _a concussion finally taking effect. It was a shock to the system to go from the relentless emptiness and silence of a dead world to a city bursting with life, especially for a ki user that _also _possessed a heightened sense of hearing. It was like a blind man suddenly regaining his eyesight.

Apprehension swelled within him and the ever-present urge to get away from everything tugged at his heart once more. Quiet. He needed to be somewhere quiet. There was so much noise. He couldn't think. His body ached, his mind ached. Guilt, frustration, hope, excitement, questions. So many questions.

"Hey, kid! I'm...I'm talking to you! Hands up **now**!" The officer's voice cut through the subconscious haze, becoming discernible again as he was forced to raise his voice further, this time sounding a bit more confident and authoritative. No doubt it was the sound of the nearing law enforcement backup that seemingly emboldened him to take on a more gutsy response.

Gohan held the man's gaze, his lips drawn into a thin line, still troubled as he battled with his inner turmoil. He couldn't find his voice, his vocal cords constricting before he could form coherent thoughts. Was he losing it? He tried to focus on the officer's features, taking in every detail, he needed to ground himself and gather his thoughts.

Navy blue utility vest, long-sleeved dress shirt. Sloppy, unraveled hair, his uniform covered with rips and cuts. Fairly young, maybe around his age or slightly older, pudgy cheeks. Big, rounded, deep-set eyes, showing more terror than anyone else he had seen in a very long time. The very white gloves aiming the handgun at him were stained red at the fingertips. Blood. _His _fault.

The words '_**Police Force**'_ were brightly embroidered on the thick—perhaps bulletproof—vest's breastplate with a bold font against a dark background, the name of a foreign town or city stamped much smaller right below it. His homeschooling might have abruptly ended in his youth, but his late mother had made sure he had enough education cramped in his brain to be skipped into high school. He had learned the names of important and unremarkable cities in his world—and this one did not ring any bells whatsoever.

His weapon looked different from most he had seen in use back home. Every detail of _**everything**_ screamed _foreign, unknown._

Of all the people he could have encountered, it had to be one of _them; _the ones most likely to go overboard in a crisis, wielding the power to turn a skirmish into a nightmare. At least it wasn't the military. It didn't matter much in the end; either way, he was already screwed.

Eyes wide as saucers, they regarded the demi-Saiyan as if he was...something else. They weren't just startled or apprehensive due to the carnage around them; they held that awful, deep-set sense of fright and distress that could only be only brought out and aimed at what they'd identify as fiendish, _evil_. _A monster. _Was it that the damage wrought by the timeship? Or was it the fact he was using his ki to float like some ungodly being? The stewing disdain and animosity bordering on disgust he could also feel oozing out of the officer made him feel almost inhuman, abominable.

His own emotions were a whirlwind of a mess. A firm, unyielding glower set itself upon his own brows, and he had no doubts his body language was screaming _threat _and _danger _at the poor man. It all just felt so unfair and unjust. Judgment has already been passed upon him without even knowing what the hell truly happened and without questioning.

It didn't matter. He just couldn't give a _shit_ right now about the man's feelings or beliefs; he felt wrong, sick. Cranky, irritated, insulted, he just felt _everything_ so vividly and it was getting much worse, his psyche clearly marking the officer as a target for his frustrations with his clear signs of combativeness. _I__t was so tempting to reach out and slap him silly a few streets across..._

No! What was wrong with him?! Gohan heard the man's weapon click, its safety being disabled as a final warning. He likely noticed his body language tensing up further. His gloved, bloodied hands were trembling too. His posture was uneven, his ki wavering, and likely aware he was facing something beyond his capabilities—he was outmatched.

_Pathetic. _

Behind his cowering shape, the sound of sirens grew even nearer. Seconds away, perhaps, as they snaked through the busy streets beyond Gohan's sight. He was running out of time. His mood soured further, both arms dropping to his sides, fists balled tightly.

Quietly as it always was, the wary, logical human side of his whispered and begged him for a peaceful surrender, its frail sound dulled as it struggled to resurface from the depths it had been buried through so many years of strife and hardship. Then, the _alien _part of his bloodline he had embraced long ago roared in a challenge, wanting to take them all on blindly and relish on the act of violence as a release for his building frustrations and suffering.

He'd do neither, for he was not a coward nor the reckless, late Vegeta. At this moment he was in no position to negotiate or properly deal with the situation in a fruitful way. He'd be arrested at once or met with extreme force, only to be asked questions later—if they ever did. The answers they received would likely be dismissed as insanity or pure malice from a lying criminal, and not knowing how their criminal justice system worked he could be stupidly throwing himself into a death sentence. That wouldn't work.

Through the clouded thoughts he still had enough mental fortitude to remain quiet and not strike out; things were going to get complicated no matter how he acted, and silence was better than putting a foot in his mouth, which would happen with certainty if he decided to talk in his current state, or worse, if he was somehow pushed to defend himself.

It was now just a matter of instant escalation or delaying it all until he could heal, clear his thoughts, strategize, and hopefully get an opportunity to explain his very messy, downright outlandish plight. This was utter bullcrap and not what he needed now!

"What in the hell?!" The officer yelped in alarm, stumbling back.

Just as the officer went into motion, a gunshot rang out.

It missed Gohan's shoulder by nearly a foot, the small projectile embedding itself into the wall of one of the buildings behind him with a loud crunch. His Saiyan instincts were going haywire, the intensifying desire for retribution and violence against the hostile force growing tenfold, nearly blinding any other coherent thought in the forefront of his mind.

Unable to control the raging maelstrom of emotions any longer without doing something he'd regret, he sprung to action. Regarding the baffled, scared man still stumbling away for a final moment with an intense icy scowl, he enveloped himself in a fiery layer of cloudy ki. Before the officer had a chance to utter any more commands, final warnings or yet another shot, Gohan forced an excessively violent downward stream of energy to propel his body upwards. Shooting into the sky at speeds much faster than necessary, his pace neared subsonic velocities within seconds, his thoughts clouded and more conflicted than ever.

Below him, the cooling crystallized crater shattered into dust-like shards with his sudden acceleration. Dark, powdery debris shot out, blending in with the now airborne mess that had settled around him, the ensuing shockwave created by his surge in power pushing it outwards to pummel everything. It launched the shocked officer backward, eventually hitting the bystanders peeking their heads a good distance away at the intersections, sending them all into a scared and frenzied rush for safety.

Temporarily avoiding a confrontation was the best plan of action, otherwise, things would inevitably escalate beyond repair from their own actions, his own, _or both_. The insatiable anger he felt scratching away at his sanity was bothering him to no end. He could easily succumb to the violent Saiyan blood-lust beckoning him now if he let things get out of hand in his current mental state, and _then..._he didn't even want to think about it.

By the time the troubled Saiyan hybrid had departed with a small show of terrifying force, the communication blackout caused by the ship's EMP had dwindled to nothing. Suddenly able to use their mobile devices again, a massive flurry of panicked calls from civilians battered the local news stations and the Police Force itself, inevitably setting events into motion that would affect him for the foreseeable future...

* * *

**MINUTES EARLIER **

**Musutafu, Japan**

_**-Mirai Ward-**_

Where was it? He hopelessly wandered the desolate streets his boring morning route for what felt like eons. What time was it now? Probably ten after. Ridiculous! He'd been on the clock for three dreary hours.

His hopeless, ever-searching dark eyes grew dull, unfocused. Service boots scraped lazily against the concrete sidewalk, his surroundings losing their vibrancy, with every drop of his one-tracked mind solely focused on what his little heart desired the most right now. In this dreary state of being, he still tried his best to acknowledge the few citizens walking past him, greeting them with the best, cheeriest but rather monotonous "_Good morning!" _he could muster.

Was it the wrong day? No. Today was the right day. Bright, cheery clothing and hardware storefronts transitioned into duller, much blander office buildings as he neared the intersection into Hajime street, doing his best to keep himself upbeat; this street was his last bastion of hope. Peering past the building wall blocking his path, that shriveling, dying heart of his soared to life with joy.

'_Ah, there you are, you beauty!' _In the nick of time too. He wouldn't have lasted much longer in this ravenous state.

The beautiful, red white and blue paint job. _All Might _himself gracing the front of it with a big grin and a thumbs-up of approval, those muscles of his bulging like balloons filled with pure, raw justice. Everything about it was beautiful; its tiny wheels, the napkin holders, the steaming pans, the countless bags of fresh buns and topping bins. Pure perfection.

A roaring little lion went off in his belly: it was time. _All-Mighty Dogs _beckoned to Junior Officer Ito Azumo like a great magic beast from the depths calling the bewitched sheep to their slaughter. Lips trembling with eagerness, he let out one of his awkward noises as his feet carried him to the cart. Like clockwork, he'd find his way to every place this amazing food cart would pop up at in his weekly rounds. If he had the yen, he'd probably buy the whole cart's worth of food to go on a week-long junk food binge.

"Ah! Good morning, officer Azumo," The older cart owner greeted him amusedly upon gazing at his approaching and quite entranced form, the wrinkles at the corner of his eyes creased further than they did with the occasional but less familiar customers.

"The usual?" He asked out of courtesy without pausing his preparation of the meal. He had known the answer for the last _fifty_-plus visits of his. This young man was more predictable than most of _All Might's _speeches.

Eyes watering as he beheld the gobs of edible sights, his condition worsened once he took a deep whiff of the nicely seasoned ground beef across the plastic divider. Every topping beckoned him, it was meant to be. It should be illegal to keep so much delicious stuff in one place. "Yes sir, please." He whispered, mouth-watering to the point he'd start drooling at any moment, eyes glued to the food trays below like a cat's to a wiggling laser pointer.

The older man let out a raspy, dry chuckle. "Gotcha, can't say no to one of our most loyal customers. One loaded _Mighty Dog _coming right up!"

Time slowed down to a crawl as the officer lost himself watching the owner work his unholy magic, his artful process taking place mere inches from him. Digging up the correct amount of yen and then some, he happily handed it all to the owner. After all, he was getting a few extra portions of everything. In exchange, he was given a godly culinary object deserving a shining pedestal of its own, wrapped neatly in a few spare name-branded thick napkins to contain the extra mess.

Ito bowed and nodded furiously in gratitude, tears threatening to spill over his eyes. "Beautiful as always," He said, uttering each word slowly as he gazed at it in admiration. However, this work of art was incomplete, for it needed its final pieces. He shifted his greedy, beady eyes to the sidebar that contained all of the condiments, proceeding to pour absurd, messy amounts of everything upon it.

Raising a gloved hand, Ito mock saluted the cart owner, an honest smile marking his pudgy features as he departed, sending a playful wink his way. Well, not really _his_ way—the cart's way. "See you later this week. You are an unsung hero. Don't look for me, I'll find you."

Waving back with an equally warm smile, _All-Mighty Dog's _owner went on to quietly clean up the mess left by the clumsy officer on the condiment bar, shaking his head while he did so.

Mission complete. Now to take a quick break on his cruiser, which thankfully was just within eyesight. If he had known _All-Mighty Dogs _was setting up their cart _here _today, he would have just waited for a while longer for him to set shop. Regardless, the man was a godsend. For what felt like the millionth time, Ito thanked the great deities above for allowing _All-Might _to discover and bring back these culinary crafts from the Americas many years ago.

Now, if that old man would finally decide to set up a physical shop. It'd be beyond amazing if he added Cheesebu—

—_**Boom.**_

Just like that, things went downhill real fast for Ito Azumo and the world around him. A sense of absolute weightlessness hit him. With it, he barely registered the fact that the firm grasp he had on his lunch had been lost. As quickly as the strange floating sensation struck him it was already over, the hefty burst of wind sending him aloft to end up impacting the side of the curb, his back twisting outwards with a _crunch_. It rattled up his spine hard, panic and bewilderment overtaking his mind.

Humming vibrations spread through the ground and even over the air itself, traveling up his hands, through every pore in his skin and up into his bones. Ito tried to move his legs off his sitting position, to no avail. A tingling, numb sensation spread up and down his legs. He was stuck, _paralyzed_.

Looking up, his eyes almost popped out of their sockets.

Obsidian sparks crackled around a baseball-sized orb-like disturbance, its murky interior full of nothing as if it were a flat hole dug right into the world itself. The air around it rippled erratically, steam clouds spiraling around it as it shuddered, enlarging and shrinking itself as if struggling against an invisible force that fought to reject its birth. Even the sky itself seemed to darken by a few shades upon its arrival. It felt like a crazy, sci-fi high budget movie or TV scene was unfolding before his very eyes.

Hysterical screams reached his ears. The civilians sounded like they were a fair distance away, so it was likely they were not in the midst of it like he was and could find shelter fast enough. The thing groaned and warbled, the convulsions worsening while its circumference expanded out of control. Whatever in the blue heavens this was yelled _danger and death. _At this rate of growth, he'd be screwed unless he moved out of the way. Waves of warmth were now reaching him, growing hotter and more uncomfortable with every inch the phenomenon gained on him.

Dropping onto his back to roll over onto his belly, he tried his best to control his fast breathing, pulling himself forward and away. He focused on crawling towards the relative safety of his mostly intact cruiser nearby, deeply pained grunts escaping his lips with each pulling motion.

_'What in the freakin' hell is going on?'_

_**Boom!**_

Terribly hot light radiated with the concussive blast that ensued, sending the street into an even more frenzied panic, the ensuing shockwaves of storm-force winds blasting their surroundings relentlessly. Whatever remained of the glass windows rained down around him, forcing him to cover his face as the buildings nearby shook lightly. Peeking out through open fingers, he caught a red blur flying through the air, smashing against a building with a loud crash.

Unable to stop himself from looking back, he let out a hearty cry of abject terror. Spreading like a ravenous tumor, the tumultuous glowing outer rim of the _thing _had grown large enough to envelop half of the street in the shape of an amethyst dome, expanding over it _and _below it.

A nearby utility van heavy enough to survive the forces pushing against it found itself in its path of growth, and the Junior Officer could only watch in awe as the vehicle—and all of the assorted airborne debris and litter nearby—were literally melted and then _consumed _into nothingness as if it were a big vacuum. Everything caught within suddenly burst into a blaze of light, dissipating into little embers that got crushed further, their forms stretching like hot mozzarella cheese to be devoured by the dark entity within.

It roared with that unnatural, jarring warbled pitch again, and it surged outwards further, much closer to him. Was it going to envelop the whole street? The city block? _The Ward? _Oh, God. The heat was now getting painful and his skin was starting to get moist with sweat.

Grabbing onto the small imperfections in the asphalt road for extra grip, he renewed his agonizing crawl away from the thing as fast as his upper body could take him, grunting even louder than before with every pull. Bloody stains eventually soaked the tips of his white gloves, forcing him to grit his teeth as his fingertips went raw scraping against the asphalt, some of his nails feeling like they were about to be ripped off their nail beds with the force he was exerting upon them to escape.

_**BOOM.**_

Ito did not lock back this time—he might a bit on the dimmer side of the spectrum but he wasn't that dumb. Then again, he didn't even have a chance to _fully think _about looking back. The officer had hoped he'd be able to persevere the turbulence as he did earlier by keeping a low profile as he slowly dragged himself away from it.

His assumption was very wrong.

Roaring with renewed vigor, the wind battered everything with the force of a big, monstrous tornado. Letting out a high pitched "_Oh shit!" _that went unheard through the incessant howling around him, his fingers slipped out of the road's crevices, losing his only tiny leg-up against the onslaught. Screaming as his legs lifted up unnaturally towards his back, he couldn't help himself as he was helplessly flung up to be thrown onto his side, the impact kicking the air out of his lungs with a rough _'oomph' _as his body was sent into a forward tumble.

Getting closer to his bastion of safety, his heart nearly stopped when he noticed it was also now beginning to shudder. Little by little its wheels lost their grip on the road, and it was unavoidably uplifted by the side nearest to the wind source and thrown up and away with ease, ending up as a heap of twisted metal. Ito braced for grievous injuries as he too became airborne.

Fate was on his side that day, however. Both himself and the vehicle dropped in unison as the powerful forces of wind that drove them abruptly died down. The rookie somehow managed to land into a final shoulder-first forward roll, rolling into a stop a few feet away from his wrecked vehicle. He let out a scream, dashing on all fours to and around the cruiser, leaning back against its undercarriage for support and protection.

"Holy...shit!" He cried out between breaths, the cuts in his arms starting to burn like hell from the heat that thing was outputting.

Reaching out for the communicator on his waist, he was relieved to see it in working condition. A few of the buttons were missing or bent, but they were probably useable. He shifted the channel to the wideband broadcast, and he was met with concerning white noise. He had to try anyway. Grabbing the loosely hanging corded device, he practically put his mouth against it to speak, "Attention all agencies! This...this is Police Force Junior Officer Ito—Ito Azumo! We...we have an emergency on Hajime street...on Mirai Ward! Need _FRU_ now! Pro Heroes! Something's... it's taken out half of the damn street!"

Static grimly answered back. Taking deep breaths to calm himself down, he peeked out. Big mistake.

The massive inky dome now nearly dwarfed the nearby light posts. Every solid surface it touched sizzled and warped, the smell of charred _everything_ invading his nostrils. It emitted an uneasy _pressure _he could feel pushing down against him, making him feel many pounds heavier than he was. The bone-jarring humming continued to thrum out of it, with bolts of menacing white lightning shooting outwards.

A buzzing sound went off, and every street light exploded, shards raining down upon the street and himself. Ito yelped, dropping down into a crouch to cover his head from the glass shattering around him as a few larger electrical detonations went off in the distance. Curling himself into a protective fetal position, he found himself putting his hands over his ears as a terrible chirp-like whirr resonated out of the thing, its pitch increasing as if it were the strained vents of a pressure cooker about to blow up. The shrill demonic wail worsened for what felt like forever until it reached an unbearable climax. Ito squirmed behind the cruiser, nearly passing out from the drilling needles threatening to pierce his eardrums and make them bleed.

All of the pandemonium and sound then keenly halted with a hearty, fairly heavy _**thump. **_Ito continued his thrashing around for a while longer, so focused on not blacking out that he didn't even realize it all had stopped. He laid on his back, breathing heavily as he stared up at the rising smoke, his heart pounding on his chest much faster than it should for a man of his weight and fitness level.

"You can do this, Ito." He reassured himself, the little squeaky words that came out doing little to spur much audacity from within as he rolled onto his side for leverage to push himself upright. Most of his uniform was now damaged beyond repair, with rips on his elbows, knees, and forearms stained red.

Leaning onto the wheels of his cruiser, he stood up as close as he could to his full height, his right leg still numb. He cautiously limped his way out of the vehicle, a hand hovering over his service pistol as he took in the aftermath of the...thing.

Hajime street was in absolute shambles. Right smack in the middle of it all rested the ominous gouge reminiscent of a crater that you'd expect to see from a meteorite strike, its raised lip still glowing a deep red. With only smoke billowing out of it, he felt the irresistible power of morbid curiosity and desire for answers pulling him towards it. Heart pounding in his ears, Ito swept some sweat off his bushy brows as he slowly but surely crept closer to the crater, gun ready to be drawn in an instant. White noise still buzzed in his radio.

The sore spot just above his behind made him want to cuss up a storm, with the tightness of those swollen, injured muscles making him want to hunch over like a frail old man. He tried his best to ignore it. As he got closer to the sinister ground depression, he saw it. His shaky hand hovered closer to his weapon.

Some sort of unholy, large dull yellow device sat in a smoking heap, steam shooting out of openings on the lower side of its metallic frame. Piercing the silence, the machine let out a sharp hiss of highly pressurized air, its hinged dome cracking open to spew out a cloud of smoke.

Unsure as to what was about to take place, Ito lowered his stance, dashing in a panic as fast as his sore legs would take him to hide behind the safety of his trashed police cruiser. He moved a bloodied glove to unlatch the holster top as quietly as possible, pulling the handgun out in a swift motion. Leaning right over the edge of his cruiser's rear bumper, he remained deathly still, waiting, using the warped remains of the vehicles to blend in and observe.

Sickly sounding coughs erupted out of the crater site, which he was almost certain came from a man. A part of him wanted to check up on whoever it was due to the rough nature of the sounds, but he then reminded himself that they could be potential criminal or a Villain. His grip tightened on the handgun at that prospect. Even if his radio was out, there was no question that the ward and Musutafu itself had squads already on their way. Backup would be here soon, he just had to assert himself and control the situation _now._

Ito heard more movement followed by painful hacking coughs, and then a strange artificial sounding _poof_ echoed out of the crater. White fluffy clouds of smoke raised out of it, quickly evaporating away as if they were made out of steam. What in the hell was going on over there?

Before he could ponder any further, his eyes caught upward motion. He froze.

A man came up from the crater. No, scratch that. A man _floated up f_rom the crater.

At this distance, he couldn't pick apart any defining details, but one thing was clear: his body was battered and bloodied to hell. He carelessly floated in mid-air a few feet over the road, facing away from Ito. The faded orange garment he wore was torn and ripped to pieces, with one side hanging completely off his shoulder to expose his torso, a small backpack sitting on his wide back. Not only were his clothes ripped; _he _was ripped. A murmur deep in Ito's head forewarned him that this man was _very dangerous._

Thankfully the man had not noticed him, appearing rather dazzled and confused as he took in his surroundings with a tinge of awe, a hand lingering protectively over his ribs. A few ragged scars were visible over his shoulder blades too. Only someone who enjoyed violence could get such grievous wounds!

His radio buzzed sharply, the noise immediately followed by the beeping sound of a successful connection. It got much louder in the process as scratchy, mumbled voices boomed out of the speakers. Scrambling to mute the sound, the junior officer stepped in further behind the cruiser's safety to tinker with the device's settings, using his hands to muffle its volume. To his chagrin, the small screen and buttons refused to comply.

"Screw this." He half-whined, trying his best to quickly gather his courage to face the potential Villain before he was discovered.

Straightening his badge and vest, he puffed out his chest, his eyes set and steady as he tightened the grip on his weapon. Biting into his lip to ignore the pain flooding his leg and back, he attempted to purposefully walk out of the safety of his cruiser with an imposing and well-planned presence, hiding his limp as best as he could. The man was staring at his surroundings, still missing Ito's clear and approaching presence and the noise blaring out of his radio.

Aiming the handgun up in his general direction, he moved closer. Perhaps if he caught him off guard he'd surrender—he wouldn't risk being shot. No sane person would, even if they possessed Quirks. He could now see the man was more muscular than he had anticipated, and it gave him pause; his mind instantly likening him to a smaller, leaner version of _All-Might_. That very thought almost deflated half of his macho bravado and confidence. He was now about fifteen feet away from the Villain and could see the awful state of his clothing was much worse than what he had assumed. Even his loose, baggy pants were marred with holes, burns, and gashes. More red flags.

To his dismay, the man still refused to take heed to his presence.

Taking a deep breath, Junior Officer Ito Azumo braced for action, his jittery index finger hovering over the trigger. "Y-you there! F-freeze right now!" He commanded or at least tried to. In his head, the words had come out with great booming authority and compelling power. In reality, his voice faltered, coming out as a mere sputter.

In the blink of an eye, the floating Villain spun around unnaturally fast as if he had been merely standing on a spinning pedestal, his attention now fully befalling the officer. He hovered menacingly, regarding him with a set of stern, dark onyx eyes; one which had a gnarly scar running vertically through it.

When those hardened eyes met his own, Ito felt an involuntary shudder go down his spine. Even though the man's countenance had immediately shifted into one of perturbed shock after noticing him, for that very brief portion of a second that he had held his full attention he got a glance into something terrible and overwhelming lying beyond. This man—actually perhaps a young adult now that he could see the youthful and somewhat ragged features—had gone through terrible things.

No, it wasn't the scars tarnishing his exposed flesh that told him so; they only ascertained the suspicion. It was _those eyes _and what dwelt within_._ Ito had seen that gruesome darkness in others, and it shook him to the core. There was a permanent taint; a deeply rooted grim shadow cloaked within those eyes. Something that was only born through terrible deeds and darkness. Born out of bloodshed, known guilt, maybe even _murder_.

The severity of the situation hit him like a speeding train. However the Villain had pulled this off, he could have killed so many innocent people had it been a normal workweek. Ito needed to delay him until Pro Heroes and the First Response Units arrived. Far in the distance, he could hear multiple sirens approaching. Irritation churned away in his mind, his worried eyes still focused on those unsettling dark orbs which were still stuck in a thousand-mile stare that shot right through him.

"Hey, kid! I'm...I'm talking to you! Hands up **now**!" Ito shouted, emphasizing the urgency of the command. His voice still lacked the forceful imposing tone he so desired to produce, but it still worked. That got his attention again. He could feel that heavy, overbearing gaze return as if it were trying to crush him, analyzing him. An inner struggle was surfacing through them as well, yet they did not waver or show any weakness.

Pure, disquieting silence. He didn't like this one bit. His weapon was scrutinized with mild curiosity that turned to indifference, its abilities and stopping power almost put into question as if it were merely a stick with a jaded look. Ito found himself straining to keep eye contact with the bloodied Villain, and the longer he stood there in the open the more vulnerable and frail he felt.

_Click. _Ito tensely flipped the safety switch into the off position. _'Please don't make me use it.'_

No positive signs of surrendering or submission. Not even a shred of worry or fear for his own life. Those eyes were fixated upon him, and now Ito noticed with alarm that at some point earlier the Villain had lowered the hand that had been nursing his ribs, both fists now simply resting by his sides and balled up tight, his countenance losing any semblance of openness or vulnerability.

_'Jesus. He looks ready to pounce on me at any moment!' _Behind Ito, the wailing of the police cruisers was almost upon them, and he could now hear their tires squealing as they took sharp turns down the connecting streets. Things would be over in a moment.

Of course, that's when things went completely fubar.

Feeling a tinge of distressing warmth seeping through the heels of his boots, Ito unconsciously lifted a foot to take a small step back. His foot did not budge. Quickly shifting his gaze down to his feet, he was appalled to find his rubber soles had begun to melt and fuse right into the overheated asphalt.

"What in the hell?!" He yelped in alarm, the solid hold his boot had on the road suddenly giving out as it stretched away into thin dripping rubbery splatters. Forced into a backward stumble, his finger twitched over the trigger.

A deafening shot rang out.

Ito physically cringed, the ringing in his ears disorienting him enough to almost fall on the road. At the very last moment, he was able to recover through multiple sticky, strained backward steps. Realizing what he had just done, a dawning sense of horror marred his features. Did he just shoot the suspect without cause? Body language wasn't enough to merit deadly force!

Looking up, their gazes briefly met for the last time. A deathly glare pierced right through him as he was regarded with what felt like absolute scorn and violent urges, his gut telling him something unpleasant was about to unfold. Whatever remained of his bravado shriveled away into nothingness, and he couldn't even pull his eyes away from the floating freaky man's own to assess his body for gunshot wounds as he had intended.

The Villain's silhouette suddenly flared up with inhuman white flames, his weird spiky hair floating upwards, defying gravity on its own accord. Ito's body froze in terror as it felt the outpouring of breezy, warm energy hit him, his adrenaline surging to a level he had never experienced before. The more primitive, instinctual part of him took over, forcing him to remain still as a rock, well aware it stood before an apex predator ready to pounce at the slightest movement or sign of weakness.

Without uttering a single word, the scarred Villain sprung into action, unleashing a massive downburst of power right into the crater itself, the process making his body blur as it shot into the skies at neck-breaking speeds. Ito didn't have the chance to track his ascent before he was battered by the ensuing shockwave that sent him flying for what he hoped to be the last time that day.

Pain blossomed on his already sore tailbone, forcing him to twist and squirm until the pain became bearable again. Pulling himself up slowly for the umpteenth time, he was forced to cover his eyes as the seemingly harmless glassy-like surface of the crater was turned into a pulverized, shrapnel-like sandy airborne mess.

"Jesus," He croaked in partial relief at the less violent, unexpected outcome, struggling to lean back as he tried to set his gaze skywards. The paranoid side of him clamored for caution—things rarely ended well when Villains were involved. Shaking himself out of his stupor, he reached for the weapon in his holster in an attempt to regain his fleeting sense of security.

It wasn't there.

He scanned his immediate area in a frenzied panic until he found it nearby, partially covered in glistening, sandy debris. Scrambling its way, he re-armed himself, getting up to take a defensive stance, both hands on the handgun as he primed in another round. Approaching the crater with extreme caution, he was troubled to discover that the damaged contraption that once sat in the middle of it was gone as well. Every physical trace of evidence, gone in less than a few minutes, leaving only a gaping hole in the street and one of his favorite parts of the town turned into a proper wreck.

"Dammit. _Focus_, Ito." His nerves were frazzled, but he tried his best to concentrate on his training and not his silly inner ramblings. Forcing himself to be extra mindful of his trigger discipline now that he had royally goofed up, his apprehensive eyes darted around from alley to alley and other potential hiding spots, making sure to slowly creep back to the safety of his cruiser in case this devolved into a physical fight—or even worse, a Quirk attack.

After a few more nerve-wracking seconds of absolutely nothing happening, Ito let out an aggravated sigh, pacing on the spot as he heard the sound of squealing tires sharply turning into the ravaged street. He didn't even look back their way as more and more vehicles poured into the street, the combination of many off-beat sirens asserting the serious nature of the crisis.

He let out an awkward chortled laugh that devolved into a whimper, at once acknowledging and embracing the life-or-death situation he had just faced, the body aches, his failure at apprehending the Villain, and the reprimands that would probably come shortly.

The boxy outline of two white and red ambulances rounded the corner, screeching into a halt behind the group of six police cruisers, their higher pitched siren finally drawing Ito's attention toward the arrivals. None of the shocked officers jumped out of their vehicles right away. They were glued to the spot briefly, aghast at the chaos that had been brought down upon the usually quiet and uneventful street. A few let out some choice obscenities of their liking, their voices hushed as mere whispers. After finally getting over their initial shock, a pair of uniformed, hesitant men stepped out of each cruiser.

"Holy shit. What's taking the _FRU_ so long?" A younger officer remaining a few paces behind the others wondered aloud as he brought forth a question that lingered in their mind.

"Traffic, you fool! Didn't you see the damn mess we had to get through to get here? Think of _them _trying to drive through that in those things!" An older, gray-haired deputy snapped back as he scanned the darkened buildings for movement.

None of it made sense. Yet, as unbelievable as it all sounded, the evidence was out there.

Service weapons had been instantly unholstered, the trepidation and concern seeping out of the large group being palpable. They all knew they were awfully vulnerable against most Quirk users, but as first responders it was their duty to ensure the safety of the Ward and Japan as a whole. Upon regaining their confidence and professional focus, the men wasted little time getting to the point huddling around Ito, with one of the senior officers interrogating him for a play-by-play summary of the incident.

Many eyes narrowed as his account of the events reached the point of his screw up, as expected. Besides those questionable looks, they listened intently, their restless eyes roaming their surroundings far too often out of brewing paranoia as his own story matched what they had heard over the radio.

On the bright side, the joke was on that punk. No matter what, from this point on and moving forward, he would be publicly labeled as a criminal just for evading arrest. If he thought he could get away that easily with minimum charges he'd be sorely mistaken. Felony Public Endangerment Class 3, Blatant Public Use of Quirks, at least Level 3 or 4 Property Damage, Injury to an Officer...more than enough to graduate him from a petty criminal right into the realm of at least a dangerous low to mid-level Villain in a matter of hours. He'd get what was coming to him. In the next 24 to 48 hours, his information would be disseminated all across Musutafu and he'd be spotted in no time.

They'd probably sic a good Pro Hero on him like Gang Orca or Kamui Woods and that would be the end of him. This was _way _beyond Ito's paygrade now but he'd enjoy watching the Villain getting put away for good.

Time passed as a painful blur to him as he lumbered towards the ambulances, promptly getting dragged into one of them by two eager EMTs to be tended to. The unnerving stillness and dread that had permeated the area for the last few minutes quickly died out with the surge of fresh activity as much larger trailer-sized vehicles of various types burst into the scene. From those, they unloaded the materials needed to build the Police Force's fancy _RRMH_—or _Rapid Response Mobile Headquarters_.

The unique and familiar deep growl of two high performance, heavy-duty Diesel engines finally made their presence known to all as they cut through the lower decibel noise around them, a set of armored behemoths hurriedly lumbering into the scene.

Everything on them—from the bulletproof windows to their massive body—were tinted pitch black, the only words contrasting this pattern resting on their sides, where a bold white font identified them as "_**POLICE FORCE – F.R.U."**__. _Every inch of their design was crafted for maximum psychological impact and utilitarian, rugged and reliable efficiency. They weren't Pro Heroes, but they served as a vital in-between in cases where the former weren't immediately available for assistance, or when the Villains were assumed to be weak enough to be taken down by a highly trained team of well-equipped men.

Upon stepping out of the ambulance, Ito had to keep his head low, the environment around him getting tenser than ever before as the elite First Response Unit armored carriers slammed on their brakes, their wide tires letting out a low scraping grumble as they halted the multi-ton tank-like beasts with little effort. Their arrival set forth a flurry of movement from the Police Force members, with most of them returning to the main staging area as the men that outranked them instantly relieved them from such duties; a fact many were thankful for.

Countless eyes scrutinized Ito, judging his every action as he sullenly limped his way down to start working on the menial duties assigned to him. Every so often his eyes would dart nervously around the street and up into the sky, still reeling from the paranoia and dread the Villain had inflicted upon him with so much ease. Although he was surrounded by fellow officers and the tough SOBs of the _FRU_, he felt little relief or safety from their presence, and that was an unnerving prospect on its own.

His partially damaged radio happily buzzed on his utility belt almost non-stop, the chatter of dispatch, EMS teams and on-site law enforcement filtering through in a high volume he couldn't adjust. Then, he heard a peculiarly happy _beep _indicating a direct connection to his device. The ID tag in the call..._oh, no._

"_Azumo, update…now!_" Hollered an impatient, aggravated man through the radio, the device's speakers crackling with static as the caustic voice strained the aging, damaged communication device.

Jumping in surprise, Ito almost dropped the hand-held microphone, managing to catch it just in the nick of time. "Sir! I'm alright. It's been a crazy day. I got a few scrapes and—"

"_Cut the rambling crap right now!" _The voice warned tiredly, its tone dreadful and to the point. Ito _knew _the man was at least partially aware of what was going on—including his proverbial mess-up—but he still wanted to put him through the torture of saying it all out loud for him. He was one of his direct underlings, which meant that he was probably stuck overseeing another crime scene or Villain attack in the ward or nearby towns, preventing him from throttling him in person for the moment. He wasn't sure which of the two were the better deal.

"Uh, yes-sir, sorry. The Villain, I-I lost him. I stumbled and I...ah," Ito's voice trailed off as he neared the critical point of his mishap, his tone wavering into nothing. He took another nervous deep breath to gather his mental fortitude; he needed to word things right or it'd get much uglier for him.

"Sir, the suspect—he was showing physical signs of imminent aggression, which is why I had my gun at the ready. I accidentally discharged it as my boots melted onto the road. It made me stumble back—I just, it was an accident. Everything that could go wrong went wrong." His voice quivered near the end as he felt the gnawing embarrassment, shame and frustration eating away at his pride and confidence.

Aware of the berating he was about to endure, he visibly shrank.

"—_You WHAT?! What is wrong with you, Azumo?! This is why you're still a Junior Officer! Absolutely inexcusable! There are protocols to follow! You're lucky that I...nevermind that! Also, these reports still make no sense in hell! YOU were there, so explain it to me from the start...__**now.**_" Static crackled again, the sheer fury in the man's unforgiving, commanding tone nearly killing the radio. Ito could almost imagine the balding, wrinkly, overweight man turn a few shades redder than he was already like a tomato.

Pacing around uneasily as he often did—with the new inclusion of a limp that was starting to feel better—he glanced back at the smoldering crater. By now it had stopped glowing, only a few thin strings of smoke rising from its cooling surface. He still couldn't figure out how in the hell that machine simply vanished into thin air, it made him seem as if he was crazy or hallucinating. The Villain wasn't carrying it, so where did it go if it was there in the first place? Was he _really_ going crazy?

Smoke arose from the droopy, damaged fixtures in the street lamps, making him idly wonder how long it'd take to repair all of this mess. The permanent gloom and doom that cast a shadow over this whole ordeal were really messing up his unabatedly cheery, aloof attitude, making him _actually_ focus and worry about his surroundings and the grim reality of it all.

"Go, go, go, go!" A crisp, deep, authoritative voice bellowed out of one of the large personnel carriers, the distraction slowing down the flow of movement around it to a crawl, with the few men standing nearby hastily creating some distance from it. As if on cue, a twin set of loud, reverberating _thumps _made everyone jump and completely stop what they were doing; the large armored doors of the SWAT-like First Response Units had just slammed down against the ground with enough force to send small tremors around them.

Out of each of the wide-open maws, a dozen men clad in striking black uniforms marched out in a straight, picture-perfect formation, their boots thumping loudly against the asphalt with each step. They were loaded from head to toe with thick, Kevlar-reinforced tactical gear, their heads protected by full-face helmets, their elbows and knees shielded by heavy pads.

They spread out in teams of three, their large semi-automatic high caliber weapons holstered over their shoulders, gloved hands firmly grasped around their handles, already prepared for instant conflict the moment they exited the vehicle. The tallest man in the group—and arguably the leader—approached the temporary supervisor to get a quick debriefing update before moving out, the smaller Police Force officer visibly recoiling with the man's imperial presence.

The manhunt had just begun.

"_I swear to God, __Azumo. If you don't start speaking now..." _His superior growled out, pulling Ito back to reality.

The Junior Officer took a deep breath, trying his best to compose himself as he tried to shake off the silent, awed trance he got into by witnessing the intimidating, pseudo-military group arrive and move with such coordination. Sergeant Nori Saito had a knack for making you feel like a proper, incompetent, foolish rookie when you were the target of his fury, whether it was well deserved or not.

How could he even begin to explain what happened when he could barely grasp it all himself? He wasn't a science geek or that well versed in this kind of stuff, for crying out loud! "I-uh, you see, it's hard to explain—"

"_Try me." _Saito's voice cut him off without missing a beat.

"Sir, that thing—it was like a black hole, believe it or not. It destroyed everything it touched. Before it was gone it spit out a device of some sort, maybe a weapon or personnel transport—it all appeared out of thin air, I swear! Damn nearly blasted everything away while melting a hole into the road. The suspect floated up in the air, ignoring all vocal commands. He appeared disoriented and somewhat aggressive. That's when I accidentally shot my weapon, and next thing I know he was gone in an instant. He-uh, somehow he must have activated some sort of Quirk. There was a burst of wind that temporarily blinded me, and by the time I recovered...he was gone, the device too."

Silence. Ito could almost feel the waves of anger rolling out of his communicator.

"_Damn it all to hell!" _The Sergeant bellowed, a loud thump resounding through the speakers.

Ito thanked his lucky stars once he heard the stern man let out a deep sigh of defeat. "_Azumo, I just... nevermind. I'll deal with you later. We definitely needed the forensic Quirk team over there too. Detective Tsukauchi and his Pro Hero Analyst are inbound as well. Tell them what you saw, you know the drill. Help them with whatever they need, same with any Pro Heroes that show up. Clear?"_

_Thump, thump, thump. _Ito's attention was drawn back towards the heavy footsteps approaching his general direction. The heavily armored and armed men stomped past him without even sparing him a fleeting glance. He pressed the call button again, feeling every ounce like the newbie he truly was, his tone flat and dejected. "Crystal, sir. Two_ FRU_ teams are already on site and deploying in the manhunt."

Something akin to a grudging grumble of approval escaped his superior's lips. _"Good to hear, it sounded like they had a hell of a time pushing through the gridlock with all those traffic lights out and those fat loud trucks of theirs. They'll take care of him quick, and if not, the Pro Heroes will. Now get on with it and make yourself useful for once! Saito out!"_

_Bzzt._

Walking dejectedly towards his battered tin can of a cruiser, Ito fumbled around with the keys in his belt, his aches receding now that the drugs in his blood had more time to work their magic. After a few kicks to the damaged locking mechanism in the trunk, it popped open. Sifting through the assorted supplies, he grabbed the lone roll of caution tape he had in there, grumbling out a few obscenities that went unheard in the noisy environment.

The other officers had almost completed their side of the enlarged civilian barrier, and now it was his turn to go back to these monotonous support tasks while the _pros_ got to have all the fun. The _FRU_ teams were now deep in the midst of it, yelling out frantic orders as they proceeded to kick down the doors of every establishment in the vicinity in search of the suspect.

Today was going to be a long, long day...

Sparing a final glance at the crater and then the calm skies above, he couldn't shake off the feeling something bad had been set into motion today. He couldn't place a finger on it, but nonetheless, a ghastly shiver ran down his spine.

_'Must be the hunger driving me crazy,' _He tried to reason.

He was so wrong...

* * *

**Musutafu, Japan**

**_-Mirai Ward and Tipoca District lines_-**

A troubled, blazing silhouette shot up through the busy cityscape, clearing even the tallest of its buildings within seconds.

Accelerating further, he paid no mind to the bundles of fluffy clouds he punched right through, a demi-Saiyan sized hole tearing them asunder as they unfolded outwards and faded into invisible moisture particles with his noisy breakage of the sound barrier.

Gohan grit his teeth, feeling troubled, in pain, and extremely agitated. Fueled by the unexpected tempest of emotions he couldn't cope with at the moment, his ascent rate and flight speed did not abate in the slightest until the streets, vehicles, and landmarks below became mere inscrutable lines and vague shapes. Convinced that his altitude was significant enough to lose anyone potentially tracking him, he let out a long-held breath as he let his aura flare out and scatter, slowing down his movement to a steady hover, focusing on soaking in the sunlight and cool breeze around him.

The simmering, blinding anger in his chest refused to fully settle down, his head pounding in sync with his elevated heart rate. It took so much out of him to simply get out of there without resorting to pure violence. Only after taking off he came to the startling realization that he had started to gather a minute amount of ki within his balled fists. Was he this irritable and aggressive before? Then again, the policeman had escalated the confrontation first.

Thinking back to his late Namekian mentor and his ever-useful wise insights, he copied one of his most basic meditative techniques. He closed his eyes, letting his muscles loosen up as best as he could, forcing his heart to slow down with deep pensive breathing as he suppressed the unstable well of ki that had arisen minutes before. If it had gone any further he could have caused even more property damage as the energy expressed itself outwardly.

Delving into his tumultuous mind, he carefully gathered his rational thoughts, forcefully pressing an offensive against the too compelling, animalistic whispers from his Saiyan heritage coursing through his veins. It was no wonder Vegeta had such a hard time restraining himself sometimes. Did his father ever get these infernal, violent urges as well?

At this altitude, the sensory overload finally receded to a more bearable level. Instead of sensing a literal sun composed of thousands of people glowing in his mindscape, he could now differentiate the thousands of signatures as small, dull flickers of light. When the world around you was full of life, you got used to a large amount of white noise filtering through your mind; ranging from the almost undetectable signs of trees to the faint ki of animals and finally, to the very obvious and much larger signatures from people.

When the number of ki signatures had dwindled to nearly nothing in his world thanks to the android's mass genocide, the stillness in his mind became the new norm as if he had been deaf and blind. A pitch black, barren terrain missing the endless beacons of light and life he had grown so accustomed to. To have it restart so suddenly was something he couldn't have prepared for. It felt like having a radio burst to full volume while you were deep asleep. All he could do was to try and repress his ki awareness to sufferable levels for now.

Combining that strain with the irrational, intense emotions and pain he was experiencing was a true recipe for disaster. All that mattered now was that he had escaped that horrible nightmare, he needed to cling to that fact to ground himself for his sanity's sake. The only problem now was regarding the hostilities that had ensued with his arrival in this unknown and foreign place; it could potentially cause trouble that would follow him for some time. How could he familiarize himself with his surroundings when he had already made enemies out of a prominent public law enforcement organization?

He needed distractions—to keep moving forward. A terrible sense of disassociation was already slithering his way, its relentless blot trying to coil itself into his mind. Only frequent meditative trances would help to keep them at bay for now. _'Keep moving. Embrace the good and the bad. Don't look back. Don't look back.'_

Endless blue skies. No desolate, crater-laden wastelands in sight. No human skeletons littering the streets. Humanity lived on. _Humanity thrived. _Those last two affirmations bolstered his spirits. Gohan could not tell yet, but the titanic mountain of emotional weight that had rested upon his shoulders for so many years had begun to splinter and get chipped away bit by bit. Inconsequential for the moment, but still meaningful. He needed to stow away his inner struggles and strife to focus on the _now _before the turmoil set him into an inescapable, spiraling vortex of misery and violence.

"It worked. It worked," He muttered to himself out loud, opening his bloodshot eyes to force himself to embrace and appreciate this new world, trying his best to let the impossibility of it all sink in.

After a few minutes of quiet scrutiny, he was able to fully ascertain this was _not_ West City. It wasn't a nearby town either, nor a neighboring island or distant country across the world; he knew his geography well _and _he had flown over most hoping that the devastation had been localized to larger countries or random regions. It was not.

Bulma's ship had succeeded, and he found himself somewhere else altogether _very _far from home. Scrutinizing every little detail of this city's infrastructure and layout made it hit home even harder. This massive landmass did not match any in his memories in any way, shape or form.

Although it wasn't as massive or towering as West City, it still was a rather sizable metropolis. Lush, vibrant greenery complimented the dense urban environment sporadically, but the necessary developments for the city's growth were beginning to etch away at the few natural resources left at its heart. They still managed to strike an acceptable balance between both. Farther in the horizon, he could see the twisting shapes and turns of the sandy shoreline where an ever larger city dwelt, and further beyond, the beautiful deep blue of the expansive ocean. To his left, gentle hills gave way to a mountainous range that spread as far as his eyes could see.

Hundreds of miles of diversity, places and pure unbridled nature to explore and lose himself into, to start anew.

Right below him, tiny colorful specks that he recognized as vehicles ran busily along the city's crowded roadways. From the rushed appraisal he had done on his way up, he noted there was a distinctive lack of Hovercars, with most relying on the typical four-wheeled configuration. Still within modern standards, but not state-of-the-art. Then again, it was better to not pass judgment until he had seen it all for himself up close later, once he was given a chance to _peacefully _explore.

Letting his mind wander away to be flooded with all of this fresh _positive_ information, he could already feel the tension in his chest lessening, the bloodlust receding to bearable levels. Checking himself for any actively bleeding wounds, he was satisfied to find the largest gash in his forehead from earlier had clotted quickly, with only small, mostly dried flakes of crimson sticking to his hand when he pressed against it.

His neck still hurt like hell, the throbbing headache receding to a dull sporadic stabbing sensation behind his eyes. Most of his joints ached, his muscles feeling extremely sore as if he had been sparring for hours. The only logical source he could blame it upon was the timeship and its uncharted side effects. _And the rough crash-landing._

"I sure made a mess out of things down there." The demi-Saiyan reflected with resurfacing remorse, thinking back to his rather destructive arrival and the terrified policeman he briefly encountered moments before he took off. At this altitude he could just make out the outline of the road damage Bulma's ship had caused, the deep charcoal gouge contrasting with the light grey of the streets and buildings nearby.

Truly, he regretted the way he had bailed out of the situation. He could not think very clearly at the moment, and frankly, it would have been incredibly difficult to explain his situation in a way that wouldn't have ended with an altercation and attempted arrest—something which he would not have allowed to proceed peacefully.

"_Hey, officer! Sorry for the massive property damage, my friend's time machine ran out of fuel and I crash-landed here!" ..._he'd probably end in a mental ward, not to mention that without any proper ID or proof or citizenship _everything _he said would be basically taken with a grain of crazy salt and suspicion. Most would, even in his own world back in its days of glory.

He'd have to truly consider the strong possibility that he was already labeled a criminal or suspect after his 'escape'. Being so close to that officer, it was all but certain he had a decent chance to ID him, and getting pinned for all that collateral damage would mean he was in it for the long run until he was able to work things out.

Scanning the boundless city carefully, he pondered on his next move.

Tired beyond belief in every aspect of his being, he felt rather uneasy thinking about immediately jumping into this world's society at large by any margin—_not that it would be that easy after that little incident_. Focusing his shuttered senses on the wreckage site, he could detect the ridiculous amount of tiny ki signatures buzzing about throughout the area. Dozens of black dots of varying sizes and lengths—doubtlessly law enforcement vehicles—coated a portion of the road like ants flocking to defend their anthill. They had likely closed off the area and were searching for him in that city square; unfortunately for them, they'd find nothing.

Surely their misdirected attention would provide him with enough time to recuperate. _That's _what he needed to do. Both parties needed to cool down as well. Most important of all, it was imperative to find out where he _really _was to decide what his long-term plan of action would be. Depending on how this society functioned as a whole, he'd have to carefully choose how he'd interact with everything. There were so many intricate cogs he could not see yet, and he was unwilling to step into it without grasping the full repercussions of his actions.

It had also been quite some time since he last had a decent meal. He had spent so many months scraping by with the bare minimum, even more so if it were to be scaled for a half-Saiyan's appetite and energy requirements. The thought of a nice, decent hot meal made his stomach growl. Now _that _was more of an immediate issue to resolve.

Where to now? He needed shelter to regroup and recover.

Standing out like a sore thumb through the sprawling concrete and steel jungle a few miles away, a large and sparsely populated nature park beckoned him. Laden with wide fields of neatly trimmed grass, lengthy dirt trails, and flowing streams feeding into multiple medium-sized natural lakes it was the perfect spot for both sustenances and as a temporary sanctuary. His sharp strategic eyes locked onto the dense bright green bundles of lush trees in the midst of it all, which would serve as a fitting spot to rest for the time being.

"This will do for now." He said, satisfied with the relative distance from the mess he'd caused. Safety was all but guaranteed within the thickest, tallest tree canopies in the area. In all likeliness, the worst he'd have to worry about would be a helicopter flyover or unlikely ground search—if they even decided to expand the area beyond the urban environment—which he doubted, at least for now.

This was as good a safe haven as he'd be able to find for the time being, and he truly did not want to venture out into the wilderness yet—he wasn't in the mood to deal with hungry dinosaurs trying to kill him at the moment. Opting to not draw any undue attention from nearby trekkers or townsfolk, Gohan slowed his descent rate dramatically to avoid breaking the sound barrier as he had unintentionally done earlier. The last thing he needed now was to produce any more easily visible energy trails or vapor clouds from his wake through the skies for anyone to locate him as he sought safe harbor below.

Landing almost soundlessly in the grassy clearing by the treeline had been slightly troublesome, as he started to feel a bit lightheaded upon nearing touchdown. He struck the ground hard with his foot and one knee, crushing the grass and dirt beneath him a few good inches.

The last Saiyan took in a deep, healthy breath, letting in the wondrous aroma of untainted nature fill his lungs, rib pain be damned. Birds chirped happily around him up in the canopies, his sudden appearance going either unnoticed or not perceived as a threat by them. Not really surprising considering he inherited his father's great gift and love for nature and animals; a skill he hadn't a chance to enjoy in a very long time.

Nature always made him feel much better. The upheaval of negativity that had been in his head abated further, not really gone but better restrained. As a precaution, he performed a quick final sweep for people nearby. Satisfied with the degree of solitude he was given, Gohan unceremoniously dropped down, pulling the backpack off to drop it by his side. He found comfort leaning against an older, scarred tree trunk that accommodated his body, letting his breathing slow further as his thoughts meandered. The little peaceful trickles of life-force the old tree emitted soothed his spirits, while the chirps and tweets of wildlife around made him feel welcome for once. It was always the smallest things that did the trick.

Clouds drifted lazily above his still form, the sun nearing its peak. Even now, the temperatures felt rather comfortable and spring-like. Was it even spring here? Slipping down comfortably onto the tree's welcoming contours, Gohan felt every kink in his body loosen up for the first time in many years, his legs straightening naturally as the cool grass consoled his sore skin and muscles further.

Within a few minutes, the last of the adrenaline coursing through his blood dissipated, his muscles relenting the tense hold on his body. Losing the temporary surge energy, his body _begged_ him to remain still, wishing to focus all of his energy onto healing itself. The urge to eat was there, but the physical and mental exhaustion from the whole ordeal was overriding the instinct.

With a very faint and almost imperceptible contented sigh and upward curl of his lips, he gladly answered the rare call of true comforting sleep he'd been so desperate for, his body slackening as it finished sliding down the tree until he was curled up on his side.

Everything else could wait.

– – – – –

**TO BE CONTINUED. . .**

– – – – –

A/N:

_I'm working hard on trimming __down a few things to move things along more fluidly and to the point. Please note this will be a story with varied pace and some world building, and as I gain experience I will adjust things accordingly. __I hope you can enjoy it all even if the story seems tediously long at times._

_Thanks again for all the reviews and follows/favorites. I still can't believe it's gotten that many, and seeing this truly fuels my writing. Until next time!_


	3. Quest for Answers

**A/N: This story is being revised/edited. Chapters will change/shrink in the next weeks!**

**[ Against all odds ]**

**CHAPTER THREE: QUEST FOR ANSWERS**

**Musutafu, Japan**

_**-Mirai Ward-**_

A svelte, unmarked SUV blared its emergency sirens as it sped through Musutafu's expansive expressway. Sharply turning into the downslope exit ramp that lead into the heart of Mirai Ward, its cruising speed nearly ground to a halt when it encountered the cramped, borderline gridlocked streets below. Undeterred by this hindrance it marched forth, expertly shifting through lanes and forced detours as needed.

No more than half an hour had elapsed since the harrowing incident had shaken Mirai Ward and its baffled residents, plunging a large chunk of its power grid into oblivion for good measure. In that time, every street and alley extending outwards from the crater site up to two blocks away had been sealed off by the Police Force. The suspect was on the run and considered extremely dangerous, with any potential interactions to be handled with extreme caution by any and all members of the Police Force _and_ Pro Heroes.

The appearance of a Villain rarely brought forth such a drastic response from the authorities. This time, however, there was something remarkably bizarre about the dozens of reports from bystanders that recounted the aberrant event verbatim.

Needless to say, Detective Naomasa Tsukauchi was in a terrible mood. Detective Tanema wasted little time slithering away from this case—as he always did with the really messy ones—opting to immediately shift the assignment to Tsukauchi because _"This kind of thing was his specialty". _Tsukauchi knew better; the man was like a vampire, working his best while blending into the background lurking in the dark, gritty and unpleasant inner workings of society, where—

-His cruiser's wheels screeched loudly as he was forced to slam his brakes to narrowly dodge a civilian vehicle that darted in his way. Flaring his sirens, he pulled through the cramped gap between himself and the oncoming traffic, glaring daggers at the driver. He loosened the death grip he had on the steering wheel, letting out a sigh of aggravation.

The drive had been a nerve-wracking mess from the get-go. Listening in on the radio transmissions made him uneasy as he tallied up the extraordinarily identical reports regarding the Villain's actions, the chaotic anomaly that precluded it all, and the familiar Quirk the suspect had employed. Put together, it set off a sickening feeling in the pit of his stomach that he had not felt in years.

Before turning onto one of the roads that led to Hajime street, Tsukauchi went ahead and disabled the vehicle's flashy and obnoxious emergency equipment, very aware and leery of the ravenous crowd that already laid in waiting just beyond. A swift movement got him out of his cruiser, his signature tan overcoat billowing in the wind as he took long strides towards the police line. A brief examination of the battered young officer standing before led him to the conclusion that he was the one who witnessed the mayhem unravel first-hand.

Rushing to lift the caution tape to let him pass through, the Human Lie Detector gave the sputtering young officer an appreciative nod before stepping through the perimeter, quickly disappearing past the endless cluster of vehicles and deep into the heart of their mobile operation center. By the time the members of the press peeled their gazes from the developing manhunt and their relentless quest for information to grasp who was standing by them, it was far too late. Even as they set their predatory sights on Tsukauchi to start clamoring for a public statement, he was long gone beyond their influence and sight.

Sighing in relief, Ito's shoulders slumped as he shifted his gaze back upon the growing number of reporters and rubberneckers hounding him and the other wretched souls maintaining the barricade.

"_Officer! Can you provide us with some insight as to what in the heavens is going on in there?" _A short, blonde-haired woman asked, doing her best to stick out among the crowd with her bright red dress and vigorous movements.

"_Hey, mister Azumo! What's up with your injuries? Was it the Villain's doing?" _Someone buried out of sight in the crowd yelled.

"_News 24 here, sir! Is it true a powerful Villain just attacked our ward? Is it true Edgeshot is on scene?! Anyone else?" _An older, more respectful reporter with thick-rimmed glasses and thinning gray hair asked near the front row.

"_Please, we just need a sneak peek at the crime scene, officer Tamakawa! A quick interview at least! I'll get you some catnip or silver vine, pleeease!" _A shrill, younger woman begged, her arms flailing around as she tried to stick her microphone as close as she could to the stern feline officer walking nearby who was having none of it.

"_Excuse me, officers! Ward News here! With Pro Heroes and the FRU called in, it must be serious! Who are we dealing with? Is it true that Trigger could—"_

They were freakin' relentless. They were ignored—they had to be. Nothing good came out of answering these bloodthirsty hounds.

* * *

Detective Tsukauchi made short work of the crime scene, his seasoned mind painstakingly analyzing every single tidbit of visual and auditory information available. Walking past the last rows of ambulances, idling cargo trucks and smaller cruisers, he finally set his gaze on the absolute carnage that had befallen the street, stopping a few meters away from it as he let it all sink in.

Collateral damage wasn't a shocking new sight for him. Startling perhaps, but not truly shocking anymore. He'd been through his fair share of absolute street-level wreckage; an exposure level that was dramatically heightened by his close friendship with Toshinori and his often ridiculously destructive Heroic ways. It was all of the little incongruous details that made him pause; this puzzle refused to piece itself together in a way that bothered him to no end.

One of their own cruisers laid battered by the side, totaled. His eyes then locked onto the utility vehicle that laid near the edge of the ground deformity and the bizarre damage it received. Portions of it simply ceased to exist—they were not incinerated, not blown up—_just gone_. Then there was the crater itself. A slight crease marred his brows; well-oiled gears whirred away in his mind as he skimmed through the large list of Villains he had the displeasure to deal with in the past.

It _had _to be Emitter-type damage. This could have only been done by a specific type of Quirk user; one whose Emitter abilities allowed them to decimate their target with pinpoint accuracy that went beyond a mere energetic detonation or concentrated brute force. However, the reports clearly detailed something different from the Villain's uncanny prowess to remain aloft by unknown means. There was no tenable way he'd possess _two _different Emitter-type Quirks. Even if it were to be instigated by _Trigger _usage, this peculiar mixture would be exceedingly rare, bordering on unheard of without thinking about genetic tampering.

_Unless_...no, that couldn't be it. He was jumping to conclusions without sufficient information.

Feeling a tinge of frustration starting to flutter in his mind, he chose to put those worrying thoughts aside for now to enter the Mobile Headquarters post haste. Stepping through the curtains, he encountered two Sergeants engaged in a heated discussion regarding their clashing tactic styles. The older men abruptly paused to refocus their attention on Tsukauchi, relief evident in their faces with the arrival of a Quirk Detective to take over the methodical aspect of the crime scene.

Within a matter of minutes, he got a thorough debriefing of everything that had transpired from the two frazzled men, with every eyewitness account, emergency call transcript and the Junior Officer's troublesome first-hand account put into a neat file for his immediate appraisal. The two _First Response Units _that answered to the initial emergency calls were joined by another set of two, for a total of four active units on-site. Divided into teams of three they set forth to carefully and thoroughly examine every nook and cranny of the buildings and alleyways in the locked down zone, with orders to shoot on sight if the Villain's capture was unfeasible or a direct threat to their lives.

A few feet away from him, the frustrated forensic analysts sat in front of their computers, slowly sifting through the damaged local surveillance systems, still hard at work compiling their own reports for him.

Upon questioning the current Pro Hero count on the scene, he learned that Kamihara—better known publicly as _Edgeshot_—was working alongside the _First Response Units _as they continued their meticulous search of the multi-story buildings in the contained zones. A large number of Pro Heroes were already busy and deployed in other areas of Musutafu, leaving them with a limited number of powerhouses at their disposal for the time being. _Best Jeanist _responded to their summons within minutes of their call to the Hero Network, although his arrival had been delayed multiple times due to unexpected Villain encounters along the way and the chaotic blackout-borne traffic mess that still plagued the ward. Another newcomer Tsukauchi had met a few times—_Flare—_was supposedly on the way as well.

Toshinori would likely try to make his way out here in a heartbeat if he were to personally reach out to him, but he had made it a priority to _not _abuse his friendship with the Pro Hero or involve him on a whim. Heroes did _not _take personal calls; that went against everything they stood for. Also, if anyone were to find out about his friend's secret and weakness, it would not end well for either of them _or _the overall safety of their world.

Tsukauchi relented those morbid thoughts as he sat down on the lightly cushioned office chair, his eyes quickly sorting through all of the information with practiced ease. After a few paragraphs, his frown set itself further. Their reports were all leading into a similarly troubling conclusion to his own, although they were still a few steps behind his trail and way out of his own target.

A metal chair scraped against the floor behind the Sergeants, where the group of forensics technicians was hard at work. Out of all of them, a single, rather lanky and raggedy individual stood up to drop a small bundle of recently printed papers on the table by the Detective. Muttering a "Thank you," to the man without looking up, Tsukauchi picked up the material provided.

The first ones described a myriad of sensor readings that made little sense to him. Skimming past them he focused on the reports and notes gathered so far. Yet again, the department's conclusions were somewhat muddled and one-tracked; they believed that there must have been a second person of interest that was unseen by anyone due to the different Quirks used. Their analysis stacked things further towards his own suspicions.

No matter how hard he tried to look past the eerie similarities between the two subjects, it all kept getting thrown right back at him like a boomerang. It all leads down an unpleasant path he did not want to think about unless absolutely necessary. The feeling in his gut worsened.

Wishing not to dally any further, Tsukauchi went on to pore over the few extremely noisy and blurry pictures of the purported Villain shared by some bystanders. Coming from shaky smartphones and taken from a great distance aided by rudimentary digital zoom, they only provided a faint overall idea of his build, height, and attire. Borderline useless on its own. The last sheet was halfway decent if somewhat pixelated, finally giving him a better glimpse of the man's attire and physicality to scrutinize.

_'Probably 'round upper five to six feet tall, muscular build. Interesting outfit choice. At least that's something to start with. He'll stand out like a sore thumb out there.'_ Tsukauchi mulled over the gritty details, putting together a half decent starter profile for the suspect, who would likely be officially labeled a Villain in a matter of hours. Enough data to keep an eye out for him but not enough to set off a public broadcast yet.

He'd make it work—he always did. Now he only needed to dig in a bit further.

Excusing himself briefly he stood up, setting his sights on a Junior Officer nearby.

* * *

By now the sun had peaked over the ruined streets, beginning its slow descent as the afternoon settled in. Low, rolling mirages arose from the road, the sweltering heat reflecting off the asphalt and up into the bodies of the uniformed men and emergency teams on site that weren't shielded by the comfort of the HVAC systems built into the mobile HQ.

Even with the material's supposed sweat-wicking abilities, Ito was sweating enough that his raggedy uniform had started to stick against his neck, upper back and what remained of his arm cuffs before it all got a chance to evaporate. Thankfully in an hour or two, they'd get some relief once the buildings surrounding them took the brunt of the heat and provided some desperately needed shade, but it honestly felt like it wouldn't come soon enough.

To make matters worse, he hadn't even had his lunch yet.

"I ain't getting paid enough for this crap…" He whined, his stomach grumbling up a storm.

A feigned cough behind him almost made his heart stop. _'You've got to be kidding me!'_

"Officer Azumo, may I have a moment of your time?" A very familiar, civil voice queried. Dread crawling up his gut, Ito turned around to be face to face with the tall, imposing figure of the famous Detective he had allowed in earlier. The man remained stoic as he waited for his response. Ito gulped, wondering if he had heard him.

"D-detective Tsukauchi! I—uh...yes, of course, sir!" Ito stuttered out, almost crumbling under the Detective's unflinching gaze.

Going into a panicked damage control mode out of sheer habit, Ito mentally fumbled with his words, his tone overly apologetic in hopes he'd be spared in case the Detective decided to turn it into an issue. "Sir, I-uh…about that, what I said earlier—I didn't mean—I don't expect-"

Tsukauchi's eyes softened as he let out a faint smirk of amusement. He waved a gloved hand dismissively while he turned around to head back towards the heart of the makeshift base. "It's fine. I understand, Junior Officer. I've been in your shoes—we all have. If it makes you feel any better, our business is strictly regarding your encounter today. I promise it'll be brief. Please follow me."

Ito happily complied with his ranking superior's request, only pausing to let his fellow officers know of his temporary departure so they could procure an extra set of hands to keep the pushy media members at bay. They walked quietly for less than a minute, their pace slowing considerably once they got into the thick of it, where countless officers and forensic teams dashed back and forth blocking their path intermittently. More than once the rookie had to quicken his limping pace to match the much longer strides of his superior.

"We're here," Tsukauchi announced as they came face to face with one of the largest makeshift tents he had ever seen.

Thick data wires ran out of its sides, routed to loud computer servers and satellite dishes nearby. Two heavily armored guards stood by each side of the mobile base's entrance, their larger semi-automatic service weapons in a relaxed stance, the tension in their postures making it quite clear they were still ready for anything.

Forcing the vinyl curtains open with his right arm, the Detective stepped to the side to allow the Junior Officer to enter first. "Please take a seat."

Taking a few hesitant steps in, Ito had to squint hard as he was hit by the overbearingly bright fluorescent lights lining the building's ceiling, blinking away tears of discomfort until his pupils acclimated. Turning his head back to finish appraising his surroundings, he found himself staring at the massive number of rugged digital workstations, all attached to a multitude of monitors on the farthest side of the room where they were being manned by just as many technicians.

Right across the technical side of the operation rested a large rectangular oak table, with two older officers easily identifiable as Sergeants taking a quarter of its surface area. There was another set of four empty chairs next to them with two positioned on each side; Ito opted for the ones farthest from them, his back now facing the forensics team as he sat down.

Detective Tsukauchi drew the young officer's attention with the sound of shifting paper, one of which came flying up to his face as it was held up for him to examine. "First of all, Mr. Azumo—the suspect...do you have any useful insight for us?" He asked, his typically neutral tone laced with a trace of irritation.

Ito's heart skipped a beat once his eyes focused on the image before him. It was easy for him to identify the suspect even in this low-quality picture. However, besides his general outline and basic physical details, any truly distinctive or easily identifiable traits were missing from the surveillance image. It was no wonder they were all so frustrated trying to scrape up more information from local systems for proper identification and potential sketches.

He tried his best to avoid the Detective's intense gaze before speaking, his feet twitching nervously beneath the desk as he tried to recall his training to provide an appropriate answer worth their time. "Uh...yes, I do, sir. He was young, maybe in his late teens or early twenties. Light skin, fairly well built, average height. He looked beaten to hell and covered in all kinds of scrapes and blood. Very strange hairdo, kind of jagged upwards and long as you can see with the outline there. Lots of scars, a nasty one running across his eye. I believe it was his left eye. He had a small backpack too. He did not respond to verbal commands and appeared confused and combative when I had my-_the accident_ with my weapon and its discharge. In the end, my mistake led to his escape, and I—I'm sorry." He had to shift his gaze downward in shame, bowing apologetically.

Tsukauchi raised a hand empathetically in an effort placate the crestfallen Junior Officer. "No need to apologize, officer Azumo. In times of distress, we can all make mistakes. We just need to learn from them and be thankful there were no casualties today."

Moving on to the most pressing questions lingering in his mind, the Detective paused momentarily to allow the rookie to collect himself, resuming his questioning only after Azumo's countenance lightened. "Are you absolutely certain you did not see any other suspects? Some of our intel suggests the possible presence of a second Quirk user based on the local damage and the suspect's ability to levitate."

Ito shook his head, raising his line of sight to meet the Detective's own, which were fiercely focused on him. _Was he using his Quirk on him?!_ "I am sure of it, sir. All of the civilians evacuated the street—I was the only one there. It was only one man...and _that thing_."

"Tell me this," Tsukauchi's eyes tapered pensively as he leaned forward, willing to put another possibility on the table to forsake the other, much worse option. "Did you happen to see his tongue?"

Ito's brows raised a notch, his brain grinding to a screeching halt as he almost choked on his own spit. "His tongue..._huh?_ Sir, why would—"

"_—Trigger._" The Detective hastily interjected, his tone dipping lower at the mention of the despicable substance _and_ the Junior Officer's blatant ignorance of it. He went on to elaborate further. "Black market Quirk enhancement drug. It boosts a seemingly insignificant or weak Quirk into one strong enough to hold their own against your day to day Pro Hero, at the price of one's ability to think rationally and heightened aggression. Quirks can also take new and unexpected traits. Most importantly, upon intake, it causes an obvious, severe dark discoloration in the oral cavity and tongue due to impeded blood flow. This is taught in the Academy, Officer Azumo."

_'Of course! Ito, how could you forget Trigger of all things, you idiot!' _Its very existence was one of the first tidbits drilled into new Police Force cadets as they joined the ranks. Things had improved considerably ever since they had dealt a killing blow to the largest manufacturers years ago, but it was still problematic to this day.

The fact he hadn't connected the dots quicker made him flush with embarrassment, a hand sheepishly being drawn to scratch the back of his sore neck. "Right, sorry. I know about _Trigger, _it just didn't click in my mind for a second. I didn't get the chance to see his tongue or any sign of _Trigger_ usage. Besides his aggressive body language, he gave no other indication of consumption."

"Figures," Tsukauchi muttered bitterly, his broad shoulders dropping a smidgen as the knot in his stomach tightened. While there was no clear motive for the Junior Officer to lie to him, he still felt compelled to use his Quirk—_Human Lie Detector—_to ensure he wasn't glazing over anything important or providing misleading information to protect himself from any other mishandling of the case. He passed the test. Paranoia was running wild in his head, and he needed to make sure his former theory had solid footing now that the other plausible explanations were being practically discarded as they spoke. Every road was leading down a dangerous path he did not wish to follow.

Fetching a small notepad out of his breast pocket, he scribbled in the few new tidbits the Junior Officer had provided to update their pathetically deficient profile sheet. At least they now had enough for a rough sketch to disseminate to their fellow men. Facial scarring should be an easily noticed feature in public. Done with the scribbling, he returned his gaze to the Junior Officer. "The_ 'thing' _you saw in the crater. What happened to it? Can you describe it?"

Ito shrugged, his face scrunching up as he tried to recall the details. "I haven't the faintest idea. I'm not really sure what it was, sir. Maybe some sort of vessel or carrier? It was dull yellow, I believe it had four or five sharp struts with rocket-like attachments. Its top was rounded, glass-like and cracked. It was heavily damaged, smoking and laying on its side..."

Tsukauchi wrote down the details, an eyebrow slightly raised at the description. When Azumo did not resume his speech, the Detective spared a glance up to see him spacing out. "I see. Now on to the first question I asked." He lightly tapped on the desk to get Ito's attention.

The rookie shook himself out of his stupor, feeling crazier by the second the longer he thought about it all. "I...I'm not sure what happened. One minute it was there, the next it was just gone. It showed up right after that damn thing had taken half of the street. I can't even wrap my head around this, to be honest, sir. I know it seems crazy but it _was_ there. I don't know what part it played on this but it was there!" Ito said with conviction. It just didn't make sense how such a large object could go missing in seconds!

Tsukauchi didn't need to use his Quirk to know he was being truthful this time; it was obvious with his strained body language. Rusty springs creaked in protest as he dropped all of his body weight upon his chair, leaning back on it as he let out a weary sigh. Removing his hat, he let it rest over the table before addressing Azumo again, his eyes set heavy with restrained frustration. "Thank you for your help, officer. We've been hitting roadblock after roadblock every step of the way. Putting together a _logical _timeline with an understanding of what transpired when the suspect arrived—and that device's involvement in it—is proving to be rather troublesome. Moving our focus into a single suspect practically throws everything else out of the window, but I now believe that's the right path to take. At least until we find anything worthwhile that sways the investigation that way."

Ito felt there was something critical Detective Tsukauchi was omitting. Whatever it was, it bothered Tsukauchi enough to make his concern clearly visible on his features. Again, something beyond his own paygrade, rank, and intellect in all likeliness.

Nodding towards something right behind Ito, he encouraged the younger officer to swivel around to face a tall man sitting beside a monitor set up to play surveillance footage. A few clicks through the playback settings brought up a looping 10-minute video on the screen.

At this wide, distant angle it displayed a fair portion of Hajime street. Little to no foot traffic was visible as it was usual for that time of the day, with the odd utility vehicle driving by occasionally. Far in the distance, Ito could see his cruiser parked on the curbside. Not too far from it there he was in all of his awkward glory, idly gazing at his surroundings in his typical morning patrol until he stopped by _All-Mighty Dogs. _He saw himself buying the fateful meal, proceeding to happily walk down the sidewalk heading towards his vehicle, oblivious to the impending event.

A few seconds after, static interference started to afflict the camera equipment, its visuals flickering on and off on the screen, the sporadicity of the malfunction shortening until a bright flash of energy overloaded the camera sensor into total failure, making the monitor go dark as it lost its feed. The video was fast forwarded through the missing footage until the screen lit up with the camera's operating system start-up logo, the image quality returning with fading white noise as the hardy equipment was forced through a hard reset to compensate for any remaining interference.

Gone was the freshly repaved road and part of the sidewalk, a tumultuous cloud of smoke billowing out of the now superheated, melted, and caved in asphalt reshaped into a craterous gouge in the blink of an eye. Two static flickers later, there it was. Just above the street; a man bizarrely floating a few meters away from Junior Officer Azumo, who had his weapon raised defensively, the unknown device that had been mentioned by him earlier nowhere to be found.

"This is all that we've managed to pull from the corrupted network drives. Everything else we found any closer to the incident's epicenter was fried and irrecoverable. Musutafu's very lucky to have such a great forensics team at their disposal." The man the Detective had nodded at earlier chimed in matter-of-factly, with a rather arrogant and irksome undertone to his voice. Ito's left eye twitched at his snarky tone.

Dragging his chair to be in front of one of the largest bundles of monitors, the tech manipulated the playback controls until the image zoomed in on the suspect. Swiveling back to face them once he was done with his work, he regarded the officers before him with thinly veiled grievance, his hands twitching as he laid them over his legs in an attempt to control the tics. "Everything about him and the incident...it's a complete enigma, and it is driving me _mad_."

Ito could not read the faded nametag hanging around the moody man's neck, but judging by the way he spoke and carried himself, it was likely he was the one in charge of the forensics team. Unruly, unkempt brown hair flopped down his angular face, covering all of his upper facial features besides his beaky, thin nose. Large, square, thick-rimmed eyeglasses jutted out in spots out of his messy hair, and Ito briefly wondered how in the heck he was capable of seeing through _that_ mess.

Tilting that tousled head of his quizzically, a single crazed blue eye peeped out of the endless frizz to first regard Tsukauchi with a nod of acknowledgment. "Hello, Detective Tsukauchi. An absolute _pleasure_ to see you again."

Tsukauchi scoffed at the man's woefully disguised sarcasm, not feeling an iota of friendliness coming from the man, as usual. "Hello, Akemi. It _hasn't _been long enough."

The tech ignored the blatant dig, deviating his gaze towards the vulnerable and rather confused rookie officer, his body language shifting once more. _"Junior_ Officer Ito Azumo, correct? My apologies, where are my manners?! My name is Genki Akemi, and I am the great, _overqualified_ Forensics Tech Lead responsible for tackling this proverbial hodgepodge." He said, finishing his introduction with an exaggerated mock bow.

Ito nodded, trying his best to not show any physical signs of his aggravation. Tsukauchi didn't seem too impressed with Akemi's behavior either, _or _his presence.

Giddy with the four sets of eyes now fully focused on him, the gaunt computer whiz turned away to face the digital consoles with practiced ease, his thin lips curled into an elated simper as his temper easily waned and seesawed again. "Where was I? Ah yes, the event itself and the Villain, or should we say _the Quirk _involved? We've got all sort of crazy readings going on here, and some very concerning ones at that. This right here—" Adjusting his large glasses before proceeding, he pointed at another screen with an assemblage of benchmarks of all shapes and forms.

The graphics made little sense to the less tech-savvy men in the room.

"_This _is our most pressing concern," Akemi went on, his index finger hovering over the timeline that comprised the last few hours of compiled data. Up until the very moment before the incident took place, the bars and lines that represented the magnitudes of some energy readings remained rather steady and flat. However, once it advanced up to the incident itself they all went haywire, zigzagging up and down, then climbing up exponentially higher and higher until the display had to zoom out to allow a larger magnitude scale to take its place to compensate for the abnormality's enormous readings.

"The phenomenon set off some _very_ unique and staggering energy readings in many of our local sensors, including our seismological arrays—although those were at a lesser scale and not truly of any concern. If anything, they serve as further instrument validation." The screen switched to another tracking graphics scale containing multiple city names surrounding Tokyo, going as far as _Kumamoto_ to the southwest and _Sendai_ to the northeast.

Shaking his head sprightly, the forensics lead leaned back on his chair, his tone growing far too eager for this serious matter. "Heck, public monitoring stations in _China_ and _Russia_ went off the scale too. From the looks of it, even some of the West's high-end satellites noticed it as well, and _that's_ bonkers. I'm betting ya it's going to lead to some very unpleasant calls from those nations questioning Tokyo's Ministry of Foreign Affairs as to whether it was a WMD test or deployment."

"Hold on. Are you implying this could have had the destructive potential of a weapon of mass destruction? _Please _elaborate at once, Akemi." Tsukauchi snapped with noticeable urgency, straightening at once upon processing the implications. The apprehension that once swirled just beyond his reach was now becoming far too tangible for his liking.

The tech whiz faltered as he was forced to pause to ponder further. "I...I'm not sure. Matter that our systems couldn't make heads or tails out of put it into question; there are some trace isotopes we can't identify that only hint at some kind of exotic reaction at the very least. We can only quantify its raw power. If it was of that nature, it just baffles the mind that the damage was so limited and controlled. If that Quirk were to be properly weaponized to its full potential, that could have easily wiped out a nice fat chunk of Mirai Ward off the map, even some of Musutafu at large."

Ito let out a nervous whistle at that. Detective Tsukauchi seemed somewhat shaken at the implication as well, a far-away look overtaking his eyes. Besides that, he did a great job controlling his emotions as it was expected from him. It just put into perspective how truly freakish this day had been and how lucky they were. He did not want to imagine what would have happened if the Villain had been in a rampage under the influence of _Trigger_.

Too many questions kept bouncing back to the forefront in Tsukauchi's mind. Why did this unknown Villain choose this specific day to surface? _Why _did he avoid a busier part of town where he could have caused incredible casualties if he wished to?

"Then," Genki Akemi ignored the irritated looks aimed his way as he started to ramble _yet again_, his tone blooming with disturbing excitement, "I'm not sure what happened at the time since we lack proper footage, but minutes after the main event took place a huge chunk of the residual energy readings just plummeted to near-background levels. What'd ya think? Could it be some sort of Warp or advanced Matter Manipulation Quirk at play we've yet to encounter, oh great Detective? Could it be—"

"That's enough, Genki." Tsukauchi said sternly, glaring daggers at the unreasonably energetic man to stop his blathering. It earned him a disappointed huff from the tech in the process. He grasped the bridge of his nose with his index finger and thumb; he could already feel a remarkable headache coming on top of the unsettling thoughts crawling around his head. He did not appreciate inane rambling, especially not now.

"Beyond these readings and what we've seen, it's all assumptions up to this point. I understand it could have been much worse—we all got ringside tickets to his destructive show out there. There's no concrete evidence of a second party, so from now on, we'll all focus all of our efforts on detaining this man. We need a motive, we need intel on his Quirk to find a way to counteract it, _and _we need to find him _now_." Tsukauchi emphasized the last two words by forcefully placing his gloved hands on the desk, setting his sights on everyone present as he did.

Really, what did the Villain get out of this little demonstration? A mere show of raw power, an omen of things to come? This whole ordeal kept sounding worse the more he thought about it. If this Villain were to be affiliated with _him _of all people, this could get extremely ugly and deadly real quick.

"Yes, you're absolutely right, Detective. That we must do." Akemi hummed thoughtfully before launching himself into another spiel, two bony fingers reaching for his chin as his lips refused to stop moving, blatantly disregarding Tsukauchi's clear warning to zip it. "Quite a curious Emitter-type Quirk, right? Or should I say Quirks, _plural? _It just doesn't click. I'm very well versed on Quirk Versatility after all, since it _is _one of my fields. His ability to propel himself aloft would clearly qualify as one self-contained Quirk, yet it would lack the power to cause that extremely precise domical crater, even if it was kinetic in nature. The energy needed to instantly raise temperatures to that point—nearly enough to produce plasma—is astronomical! _Can any of you even begin to grasp what I'm talking about?!_ Every material was literally atomized! Then there was the electromagn—"

Tsukauchi tuned him out. Genki _was _providing useful information, he truly was. However, it would lead them nowhere until they apprehended the Villain or gathered _true _irrefutable data. Hearing the man spout off his own concerns about the difference in Quirk abilities practically resonated with his own thoughts, making his suspicions take root even further. He only knew of a very limited number of people with such..._peculiar _abilities, and none were on their side.

He ground his teeth as he tried to focus on the subject at hand, his gloves grasping onto the side rests of his chair as he did his best to weather the rude forensics tech. Akemi then started to ramble on about his own opinion on the matter. He was such an unbearably cocky, self-centered individual. He just _loved _to hear himself talking as he belittled others.

No more. "—Akemi, _that is __enough! _We are here only for the facts, we've had enough _personal opinions._" Tsukauchi forcefully interrupted the tech whiz loudly as he enunciated the last two words with piercing asperity, his respectable levels of patience eroding away quickly in light of the events and the man's rather grinding personality and blunt indifference. This meeting had gone on for too long.

The forensics lead failed to mask his recoil at the barely controlled outburst, with the fact that Tsukauchi leaned his considerable frame forwards and over the less physically imposing scientist not helping in the slightest. "We are _professionals, _gentlemen_. _Opinions are inconsequential and can be dangerous. In this business, only_ facts _hold true power, and here we are, taking potshots in the dark, trying to put together a puzzle based on a mixture of facts and conjectures while missing vital pieces. We're just getting started, so let's get back to work; this Villain won't catch himself."

Akemi deflated under the Detective's heated glare, deciding it was the perfect time to zip it and refocus on his duties. The tech whiz spun around to make himself busy on his computers, while Ito lowered his gaze, feeling the Detective's eyes resting on him for a second, very unsure as to how to react. He felt so out of place in this meeting. Why was he even here after the quick interview?

_**Buzz. Buzz. Buzz**._

Deep in his coat pocket, Tsukauchi's muted cellphone went off, the unique vibration pattern he had set up telling him everything he needed to know. It was time to get a move on before his headache worsened. The hungry pangs that had started to remind him of lunchtime were long gone, his appetite fading into nothing with the foreboding feeling he was getting out of this whole fiasco.

Standing up, he fetched his bowler hat before resuming his discourse, the terseness in his eyes abating as they regained their more casual, friendly glow he was better known for. The mere thought of leaving drastically improved his mood and the fact he put Akemi in his place provided him a little bit of respite. That had been long overdue, for over _six_ _months._

Bowing respectfully, he regarded the group of men with an appreciative tone. "I'd like to thank everyone for their assistance. Officer Azumo, you're dismissed. Take the rest of the day off and recover. Lead Genki Akemi—please forward these findings to my Division's accounts, even _your _own theories. Sergeants, you know what to do. Now if you'll all excuse me, I have other matters to attend to momentarily that will hopefully provide us with further insight."

Departing the mobile base of operations in a hurry, he only halted briefly to fetch the vibrating mobile device from his coat pocket. Sending a quick "_On my way." _message to the contact, he resumed the brief, brisk walk towards his rendezvous point and their only potential source of critical evidence.

"Aha! There you are, _mon amie_." A heavily accented, muffled voice called out triumphantly a short distance away from the ever-present crater.

Tsukauchi let out a genuine smile. Meekly waiting for his arrival by the ominous ground fissure, there stood one of his closest acquaintances outside of the Police Force; the Pro Hero _Ultime Diagnostic S__ystématique._

Unfortunately for the flamboyant French man, the limited number of citizens aware of his existence disregarded that wearisome, foreign long-winded name, collectively calling him _Diagnostique _instead. Despite his constant protests, the modified name stuck like glue and he could do nothing but grudgingly embrace it publicly.

When it came to business and personal matters, the word _impressive_ was a descriptor the Detective prided himself in using sparingly. Very few people in his mind would aptly fit his standards. _Diagnostique_, however, had earned it well countless times with his impeccable sense of timeliness—unlike another certain muscle-bound Pro Hero he knew—and his incredible abilities which often provided comprehensive insight into matters even some of the most clever science geeks in their ranks would only dream of unraveling.

To put it bluntly, Fudo's body was chock-full of integrated diagnostic, imaging, and scanning equipment that he could control directly through a neural interface generated by his Quirk—_Technopath—_which allows him to assimilate and command machinery willingly _and_ unwillingly. When it came to baffling or intriguing cases no one else could crack, _Diagnostique_ was there ready to bust his behind seeking _and _getting answers.

As it was the norm for him, the French Pro Hero wore his padded, highly customized jet-black protective Hazmat suit, which covered his form from head to toe with a casing that could resist most chemical and radiological substances. Oxygen tanks, filters and air recycling systems rested on his back, twin tubes connecting to the sides of his round, large, tinted visor to deliver their vital payload. Fudo's suit wasn't the most appealing public sight and as such, when he was seen around in his attire, most civilians unaware of his Pro Hero status often feared to approach him or outright shunned him.

While the suit in question was tinted black, every single item mounted on it had a deeply contrasting metallic red undertone to it. Built-in goggles covered half of the face plate, their internal lenses glowing white in their current inactive state. Surrounding the main lens assembly there were other sets of digital lenses set in a spinning cylinder, their mobile nature allowing him to switch them on within seconds. Every single one of those providing access to a plethora of crucial settings, including extreme magnification, scanning systems, and even advanced vision modes. Its peculiar configuration and mechanics reminded Tsukauchi of one of the most-sought memorable toys from his childhood—the 3D stereoscopes widely known as View-Masters.

"How have you been, Fudo?" Tsukauchi asked, the question shamelessly loaded with concern as it often was. By now he had grown comfortable communicating with him on a first-name basis, knowing the technopath appreciated it as well; normality was something Fudo Sasaki did not experience often. He worried for his mental and physical well-being; there had always been very real concerns about his humanity slipping away as a result of his physical condition and bio-tech fusion, not to mention the ever-present chance of an accidental overdose.

Somewhere, deep down in that suit there was a pump constantly feeding him heavy duty, _very addictive _Opioid-based painkillers right into his bloodstream to keep him mobile and effective in his support duties.

"Hanging in there, my friend. Takin' it one day at a time, staying strong. With so many _belle femmes _chasing after my handsome self I cannot help it!" The suited Pro Hero replied in that jovial, jesting and heavily accented voice of his. As it was the norm after one of his _I'm-a-ladies'-man _jokes, he let out a drawn out, boisterous snort-laugh that reverberated in his suit loudly. Managing to reach the ears of a few officers nearby, they turned to face the not so popular Pro Hero to roll their eyes in exasperation.

_Diagnostique _was not phased in the slightest. He never was. Unfortunately, a good sense of humor wasn't required to join the Police Force.

Offering an oversized red gauntleted hand to the Detective, the gesture was reciprocated at once with a firm grasp and shake, the latter using the opportunity to appreciate the constant improvements the man managed to cram into every part of his suit. Even more lights, screens, and buttons dotted the inner side of the gauntlet now.

'_Just how many more things will he stick in there?'_ The feeling of cold glass against the palm of his hand made him aware of the bulbous, round array of sensors that rested on the same area of his friend's hand. Those were the same ones that put him in a long term treatment of chemotherapy for radiation exposure when he foolishly assimilated radiological equipment.

Tsukauchi couldn't help it but chuckle lightly at the Pro Hero's self-deprecating joke, "Good to hear you're still at it, you Casanova. It's been quite some time." Both let go of the short handshake, diverting their focus to what rested beside them.

Positioning himself at the raised rim of the abnormality that loomed beyond, the Detective's eyes grew steely as he took in the destruction around them once more. "What can you make of this? Our team thinks it was some sort of Emitter-type Quirk, and so do I. It gave off some impressive energy readings throughout Tokyo and most of the country which I'm sure you're well aware of. Once _that _went off, a man showed up demonstrating a different Quirk that allowed him to levitate."

"Huh, _très intéressant_. Two Emitter Quirks used at once, with one being levitation? That—" _Diagnostique _paused, his lenses narrowing as he connected the dots. "Naomasa, that sounds awfully familiar to—"

Tsukauchi's expression soured as he hastily interrupted his friend. "Let's not jump to that conclusion yet. What do _you_ think?"

_Diagnostique_ shrugged, chuckling to himself. Tsukauchi was almost like a brick wall when he was in the zone. It was rather obvious he had already reached a similar conclusion, whether he had come to terms with them or not. Stepping over and onto the brittle, cracking glass-like surface of the crater, the machinery keeping Fudo's frail body balanced and upright whirred loudly within their enclosures as he spoke. "To the point, as usual. Very well my friend, let us see what we have here..."

Calling upon his Quirk, he activated his suit's systems by tapping the logo on his chest piece, composed of the international isotope sign being scrutinized under a magnifying glass. Power surged through his harness, spreading faint red currents into his limbs and goggles. He hummed to the tune of a song Tsukauchi didn't recognize, the built-in illuminated lenses blinking in sync with his eye movements as they shifted through various modes.

"Huh, still not enough." He grumbled out, dissatisfied with the preliminary results. Gauntlets aimed down, he directed the crystal sensor arrays on his palms to do a more thorough sweep of the entire surface area. Electronic whirring filled the air as translucent beams of light came to being, spreading out of his gauntlet's emitters to scrutinize every element in the visible spectrum.

He let out a disappointed huff, still unhappy with that he'd gathered so far. All of the scans he'd usually run for traces of ordinary and exotic explosives or accelerants were negative, finding nothing that could have produced such a terrible amount of damage and heat. How could it have discharged such a concentrated amount of energy without a breached fission reactor or a similar energy source? How was the damage confined to only this area if such a great force was put to use?

It _must _have been a rare, tremendously powerful Quirk. A worthy challenge indeed.

To answer one of his lingering questions, the Geiger counter in his gauntlet activated, clicking audibly after finishing its scans; the potential _rad _readings were above average background levels but still within safe parameters for ionizing radiation exposure for the average human. Double checking the data that Tsukauchi had just transmitted to his computer, he came yet again to the aggravating conclusion that all of this put together made no sense whatsoever.

_Diagnostique's _browless, lashless eyes turned to slits behind the visor, vexation itching deep in his head. He rarely encountered challenges of this caliber. "_Zut_. None of this makes sense, my friend."

"Go on," Tsukauchi said, both of his arms resting behind him, listening intently. His fellow officers continued to mind their own business giving them a wide berth, with three _FRU _teams making their way from one side of the road to the buildings right across. The bright yellow coloration of a suited man moving with them caught his attention; another Pro Hero had arrived—the newcomer _Flare. _

Letting his gaze meander the other way, he noted _Best Jeanist _was on-site too and accompanying other units as they moved on to clear the buildings farther away from the base. He highly doubted the suspect would be dumb enough to hunker down near the scene; he was likely long gone and across city lines by now.

Fudo hesitated. That nagging feeling in the back of Tsukauchi's neck making him uneasy about the whole ordeal jolted back into being. Now it was coalescing into something truly unpleasant as he watched his friend struggle in ways which were very unlike him.

"I...do not believe this was a conventional Quirk, Naomasa. Or at least I can rule out it being nuclear in nature as your peers wrongly deducted in some of those files—it is implausible." _Diagnostique _started his long summary, raising a gauntlet. A miniaturized hologram was projected from it, displaying a myriad of mathematical and scientific symbols the Detective was unfamiliar with shifting around far too fast for the average person to interpret.

Pressing a few commands on the gauntlet, yet another layered image appeared. "I find no significant radiation indicating direct nuclear energy sources, only marginal isotopic residue decay of unknown origin. If this were to be a device powered by an energy source of that caliber...our technology could not house it in such a small area, it would take the whole street with cooling apparatuses and radiation shielding. That terminates my earliest theories as well. A very peculiar predicament, this is."

_Diagnostique _proceeded to describe the work he had done so far to the Detective. Basic, shallow scans of the crater surface and decayed structures did not provide any new or significant insight. An incredible amount of power had been expended here; the fierceness of the unknown reaction blazing up to temperatures exceeding 1,000°C. Those temperatures pushed all of the materials beyond their structural melting points, with many micro-structural physical and chemical transformations occurring way before they neared those radical breaking points. The inevitable end result was that charred, brittle, crystalline byproduct coating the site.

The Pro Hero finished his explanation and went quiet again. Theories were running aplenty and wild in his mind, that brilliant brain of his working itself into overdrive, gears whirring away madly. All of the simplistic explanations were exhausted. Perhaps he needed to focus on the illogical, the improbable?

"Were the eyewitnesses able to describe anything peculiar about the event itself?" The technopath asked, done fumbling around with the hologram to face the Detective. Deep in thought, the scientist rubbed a gloved hand over the visor where his chin would be.

"Most described it as some sort of ripple or void, it was extremely dark. It apparently turned into a large sphere, and then it caused _this,"_ Tsukauchi recounted as he pointed down towards the crater.

"_Curieuse_. That sounds very similar to what I witnessed from an Emitter-type villain many years ago. Rare energy signatures and by-products...that can be detected and tracked when you know what you're looking for, and have the right equipment for it! Tsukauchi, this might help in my investigation greatly!" And just like that, an invisible light bulb seemed to blink to life over the technopath's head, his whispering turning into near-shouting filled with frenzied clarity and insight as he raised a large, closed fist in triumph.

Static buzzed around his cybernetics, warm-up calibrations taking place as _Diagnostique _steadied himself for the physical strain to come with the use of one of his trump cards—_Ultimate Move: Overclock_. "I know what I need to do now. Please give me a moment to prepare for _Overclock _and step back, _mon amie_. Don't want to fry your cellular phone by accident yet again." He let out a hearty chuckle at the memory.

Tsukauchi frowned; his friend's joke about that accident was not assuaging his apprehension in the slightest. "Fudo, are you sure about this? Your health, I can't in good conscience—"

"Naomasa, it is okay. I do this because I want to, I _need to_. My choices are my own, and not your responsibility. I will be fine, I am a Pro Hero; this is what we do! Now please step back, I do mean it. I cannot afford to buy you any more high-end fancy electronics, heh."

The Detective did not speak again as he created some distance between himself and _Diagnostique_, only sharing a nod of understanding with his old friend as his lips twisted into a thin line of uncertainty.

Temporarily disabling hardware limiters and voltage regulators, _Diagnostique _ramped up his power output up to its utmost limits, locking his body harness for safety. Energy conduits throughout his suit took a crimson neon glow, with the excess heat and moisture that couldn't be absorbed by the heat sinks and dehumidifiers causing his skin to be coated by a thick layer of sweat in seconds. Eyeing the levels of analgesics in his blood, he upped the dosage to ensure he'd be able to maintain his special technique long enough to succeed.

Sensor arrays were rebooted, their internal algorithms and wavelengths altered to interact with anything out of the ordinary in the area. Detecting any anomaly was energy intensive, so it was no surprise that _Diagnostique _found himself grunting in exertion before the process had even started, the burning pain at all hardware-to-flesh melding sites threatening to pull him out of _Overclock _if he even lost focus for a few nanoseconds. Using his Ultimate Move was always the last resort, its usage ultimately limited by his declining health.

Increasing the IV drip dosage further as a preventative, the technopath let out a final grunt of effort as his lenses shone brightly, twin beams of extremely concentrated hard-light shooting out of his gauntlets to dance across the crater and its surroundings. Petabytes worth of perplexing data flooded his mind, CPUs, and buffers at once, his body's built-in health safeties detecting dangerous conditions as he neared his physical limits, with spasms now racking his body as warbling alerts went off in his helmet.

Just as this happened, Fudo felt his body stiffen, a sense of dread spreading through his being like wildfire. That was all it took for _Overclock_ to deactivate_, _his suit dimming down to its original configuration, switching into emergency cooldown mode as the internal power source flickered with the strain. To stop himself from collapsing uncontrollably down the crevice, the Pro Hero sent a neural override command to the suit's built-in endoskeleton motors, effectively switching them from passive assistance to full body control. Squeals and groans escaped the drained x-shaped harness and body frame as it helped him take uneasy steps back, up and away from the crater.

A helping hand was laid over his shoulder as he hunched over, his own hands resting over his knee guards for support. The technopath raised a gauntlet to wave it at the Detective, slightly irritated with himself and his pathetic physical state. "_Merde. _I'm—I am fine, I just need a moment to gather my bearings."

"Take as long as you need, Fudo." Tsukauchi said reassuringly, more than willing to wait until his friend recovered to get some answers. He still kept a wary eye on him, ready to lend a hand in case he lost his footing or outright collapsed.

It took _Diagnostique_ a good five minutes to fully regain his senses, and then a few more for the technopath to ruminate and process the data he had gathered. Much, much longer than usual. The Human Lie detector frowned as he waited, the scientist still hunched over, unmoving. Another few tense minutes passed. Reaching out with his Quirk, he detected a sudden shift in the Pro Hero's emotions for the worst.

"Tsukauchi," Fudo breathed out as he straightened, walking away from the crater without another word, limping slightly as he stumbled his way up to the nearest wall of an office building, where he plopped back to lean his body weight against it.

Even through that suit of his, Tsukauchi could read his body language rather well and it wasn't a good sign. Far too shaken, in pain, deep in thought and physically drained...what did he find?

_Diagnostique _mumbled some incoherence under his breath.

"What was that?" Tsukauchi prodded, arms buried in his coat pockets, reigning in his flaring stress-borne impatience as he chose to also lean back against the building near the technopath.

"I said, _'W__hen you have eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth.' _I believe that's how the saying went..._" _That rattled, uncertain, shaky tone of his was starting to _really _set Tsukauchi on edge. Inane musings were not often a part of the Pro Hero's style.

"This thing, whatever it was—that energy—it's _foreign_, feels _wrong_," _Diagnostique_ stammered, his mind struggling to comprehend the information steadily flowing through it. "I scanned for Warping signatures and the such; portal-like Quirks we've seen before. They all create small disturbances that go away in a few minutes. A small two-way mirror you can step through, powered by the Quirk user for seconds, no problem. Leaves a traceable signature if you know how to look for it, but little to no environmental damage."

Fudo raised his helmeted head to face Tsukauchi, his voice wavering. "This is not it. It's unlike anything I have ever seen."

That funny, foreboding feeling from earlier blossomed further, jogging down the Detective's spine in ways he had not felt since they had to deal with_...him._

The Pro Hero tinkered with the controls on his gauntlet, staring at the holographic information displayed to double and triple check his conclusions. "Naomasa, whatever this thing was, it's like it tore a hole right through everything. There are receding gravitational wells. I see cracks and ripples right there at the epicenter like rough scar tissue, permeating the spot. I—I do not have the advanced technology to fully certify this finding. Our theoretical sciences have never delved too deep into this subject, so this is a mere theory based on what I know so far. However, it is my belief that all the damage you see here was likely from an unstable event horizon or singularity."

Tsukauchi swore under his breath, his voice sinking and grave as he pushed himself off the wall. "How dangerous, Fudo?" He truly needn't ask this, for it was obvious with all of the visible destruction. Still, his innate desire to fully understand their case, their target and the potential breadth of damage reigned above all.

"Dangerous enough anything that touches its event horizon would dissociate into its constituent atoms almost instantly, Detective, and I mean _everything_. Your brain would cease to exist even before your neurons were able to process the pain of total cellular annihilation. At its core lies infinitely distorted space-time where physics, as we know them, are thrown out of the window." He said, his voice grave and lacking any of its typical cheer.

Fudo stopped to take a few deep breaths, his lenses shuttering briefly with hesitation. Being out of his comfort zone and dealing with subjects beyond his knowledge was a humbling and grounding experience. Above all this, the fear of the unknown dug deeper. "This phenomenon...and its origins go beyond _my_ grasp of these complex subjects. What this Quirk is or how it functions I do not know, and that is worrisome. I can tell you that we were very, _very_ lucky today."

"Feels like I've heard that a couple of times already." Tsukauchi let out a bitter sounding chortle. Deep down, he was shaken to the core. To think of what could have happened if this had taken place in the middle of a busy mall strip, a school or a stadium was too jarring to conceive. Staggering losses that they couldn't even account for if the victims were to be instantly disintegrated. This was much worse than anything he could have ever imagined.

He stifled a shudder that tried to run down his body. Shaking himself out of his dazzled and doleful state, he forced every disheartening thought in his mind back into a corner. He _would _find a solution for this problem and he _would _stop that Villain no matter what. "Is there any plausible way to prevent this from happening again? Can a Quirk like Eraserhead's nullify it?" He asked, his voice laced with a tinge of flickering hope.

Seeing Tsukauchi return to his resolute, professional self with such ease allowed Fudo to pull himself together as well. "For the first question, the answer is _non, _I do not believe so, _mon amie. _At least not once it has been activated. These phenomena do not respect who or what is in their way and have a will of their own, so we can only hope to stop the Villain before they activate it again. One capable of meddling with forces that transcend conventional physics and our limited knowledge of them...it is a scary proposition."

"Damn it all." Naomasa Tsukauchi wasn't one to curse often. Spine stiff as a steel rod, it felt like someone had dropped a bucket of ice cold water over his head in the last few minutes, seeping into his very bones. A duet of emotions he believed to have been dead and suppressed long ago came back: fear and uncertainty.

Starting as a rookie in the Police Force, he had seen his own share of extraordinary, questionable, and disturbing things. Quirks, as a relatively new genetic development for the human race, had been full of wonders and astonishing feats. Humanity as a whole had a distinct aversion to change and fear of the unknown, and Quirks were a big, fat, powerful ever-evolving and changing unknown. All it took for fear to take an unyielding hold of the populace was for a perp mad with power to wreak havoc upon the innocent on a whim. From then on the world at large would go into an uproar that would usher forth a new wave of change and strict regulations upon Quirks and their usage.

Many unpleasant cases reared their ugly heads through the years as criminals and Villains were emboldened by new, twisted and devastating powers at their disposal. He had seen far too much death and pain. Acts that sickened him and made him question humanity's worth, the cunning and pure evil of the wicked often testing his mental fortitude and sanity.

For all of these reasons, it was quite remarkable that he was experiencing this sudden trepidation; the fear for his fellow men and Musutafu's citizen's safety, all up in the air. He was known as a composed, amiable man with great, unflappable steadfastness. There was just something that set off a deep-seated sense of dread when facing something that so little was known of.

A feeling only familiar with one other Villain...

No, he couldn't allow these doubts to weaken his resolve. They'd just have to work on a plan to stop him before he got a chance to use his Quirk again. There _had _to be a logical, proper explanation and solution to all of this.

He stared at the crater intently, longing for it to provide him with the answers and ultimate solutions he desperately needed. No matter how preposterous this appeared to be at first glance, there had to be light at the end of the tunnel. He would require _Eraserhead's _assistance right away. With _Diagnostique's _and his own Department's findings, it was clear this had to be escalated to a whole new threat level at once. The severe ramifications were likely to spread far beyond their country if Akemi and Fudo were right. _His _involvement wasn't a mere possibility anymore, and many eyes were likely to be glancing their way.

Straightening himself with resolve, Tsukauchi regarded his friend one last time before departing, his eyes burning with grim determination. "Thank you for your help, Fudo. This has been both enlightening and disturbing. You might have saved some lives with this information. As for earlier, I hate to say this, but I think our suspicions might be correct. I'm sorry to cut our meeting short but it seems like there's a phonebook's worth of people I need to talk to about this before the day is over. We might need your expertise again with the higher-ups within the day once I get a meeting arranged. Be safe and recover for now. I have a really bad feeling about this."

_Diagnostique _nodded, pushing himself off the wall to take his leave. The light in his lenses was slanted and dim, matching the tired eyes beneath. They might have only been there for fifteen or twenty minutes but it felt like an eternity. "Likewise, my friend. Be careful out there. I'll be waiting for further correspondence, and I _do_ need a nice nap. _Au revoir."_

Understatement of the month. Tsukauchi's long coat fluttered behind him, his deliberately fast stride making short work of the cordoned crime scene as he headed for his cruiser. Buildings, equipment, and men alike shifted into protracted blurs around him; the tunnel vision he'd often experienced when he was submerged within his domain taking shape full force.

Officer Sansa approached him at some point in his walk to offer his assistance, but the Detective was far too perturbed and stressed to settle for any more idle chatter with the officer, who thankfully noticed this as well and was very understanding. Fellow Police Force agents kept a wide berth from his tense form, opting to greet him with brief nods that went unnoticed by him as he rushed past them. He couldn't waste any time divulging these discoveries to them; they'd likely be disregarded as nonsense and dampen the investigation.

_Diagnostique _wasn't liked by some of his peers, but his words held their weight with the people that mattered._ That _was all that mattered to him. Combining his findings with the data gathered by the Police Force's teams, there was no way this would go away or be pushed under the rug as a low priority case. They would need to handle this man with extreme caution and ensure his capture at all costs, even more so if he was in cohorts with that evil bastard. If this had caught the attention of other nations, it was truly a matter of urgency.

_**Ding. Ding. Ding.**_

He blinked in confusion when he heard his cruiser's unlatched seatbelt warning chime go off. He had already started the engine by the time he regained his senses, both of his gloved hands stuck clasping onto the steering wheel with a deadly grip, his eyesight set far off into the street into a thousand-yard stare.

He felt truly frustrated and sullen; all of his experience and insight had proved nearly useless today and very little was gained about the suspect's motives. _Diagnostique _truly put into perspective just how far out of their league they were. He was beginning to come to terms with the fact he'd likely never fully comprehend what transpired today—at least not for the foreseeable future. He'd do his damn best to ensure he'd get his answers one way or the other.

'"Pull yourself together, Naomasa." He said, his eyes darting to look at his own tired reflection through the rearview mirror.

Sergeant Nori Saito would need to be informed of this troubling development as well, but that would wait. Right now he needed to drive right into the Police Force Headquarters and get in touch with Chief Tsuragamae. From there, the Chief would contact the Commissioner General for an impromptu conference with the science team and Fudo, hopefully within the next 24 hours. Knowing them, they'd likely drag their feet until something else happened. For all of their sakes, he hoped not.

If everything went according to plan with the Chief and Commissioner, they'd be able to call for a general Pro Hero meeting in the next few days. They'd need to put any available Pro Hero on high alert to be on the lookout for the suspect. In all honesty, he wasn't sure how many of the Top Heroes would show up, considering the rather bizarre and unbelievable nature of their claims, but Tsukauchi knew that at least _one _of their greatest and most powerful allies could be counted on to be there.

"Toshinori, I sure hope you're taking care of yourself. We might need you." He muttered, pulling away from the crime scene as fast as he could to make his way to the Police Force's HQ, his cruiser's sirens blaring away. He truly hoped _All-Might_ was pacing himself; if things were to go downhill they'd need every minute they could squeeze off his muscle form. He'd contact the Pro Hero once he arrived at the precinct and got in touch with the higher ups.

Today was going to be a_ very _long and eventful day.

_Not only for the people of Mirai Ward, but also for those in the town of Kēosu..._

_For the latter, it would be one of their last._

– – – – –

**TO BE CONTINUED. . .**

– – – – –

**A/N:**

_Thanks to everyone who has reviewed! I don't want to fill this page with a bunch of responses but know** I do appreciate your reviews, positive or negative(just don't be needlessly rude or cussing up a storm).** This is a new hobby I'm truly enjoying, and I'm looking forward to seeing how all of this evolves. Summer's here now so I'll be doing my best to work on this while working full-time(and overtime sadly)._

_Hope you enjoy, and thanks for reading. Until next time!_


	4. Calamity

**[ Against all odds ]**

**CHAPTER FOUR: CALAMITY**

**Near Musutafu, Japan**

**_-Kēosu Village_-**

Life for the great people in the small, rural village of Kēosu could be described as easygoing and unremarkable. Being within driving distance of most wards, it was a great choice for those old souls who wished to live away from the loud hustle and bustle of city life.

With a population barely holding at 200-plus souls, it was by no means what you'd consider a lively or truly busy locale. Many chose to retire and live their golden years here, and for good reason; the stunning, lush mountainside scenery gave way to sloping hills that led into central Musutafu, and further beyond, the sprawling, gorgeous deep blue of the Pacific ocean. Year after year, springtime would fill the vibrant greenery with an array of stunning colors that would draw countless visitors and aspiring photographers alike. Truly worth every yen.

The last faint, orange-tinged sunrays struggled to peek over the cloudy horizon as the evening hours settled in, and with that, the few signs of life and activity faded as well. Nocturnal critters stirred awake, their calls echoing loudly throughout the slumbering village as the moon slowly but surely rose over the horizon to cast its beautiful glow upon it.

Kēosu was, in all aspects, the epitome of peace and serenity. Crime rates were abysmal; a fact plainly displayed with their choice to use a small, century-old decrepit building as their Police Force station with just enough square footage to comfortably house two to three deputies. A couple of holding cells sat at the station's very back, able to hold six prisoners at full capacity; something which had yet to happen in their history.

Currently, a single young man was on duty.

Officer Mori Kisho let out a hearty yawn, leaning back against the uncomfortable, raggedy sofa in the station's lounge room. Across from it rested one of their main connections to the outside world, sitting over a small coffee table; a banged up, low-quality old school 20-inch TV. The only redeeming quality the heap of junk had was that they could attach streaming devices to it, greatly extending the lifespan of the antique(and their own sanity). Next to the sofa sat one of their two work desks, currently repurposed to house their aging radio equipment and emergency dispatch system, both deathly quiet and on stand-by. He couldn't remember the last time one of those things had gone off for a _true_ _local _emergency.

"You've got to be kidding me. No new episodes out today for _anything_?" He groaned in disappointment, scratching at the stubble on his chin as he browsed through the digital library of their _Ruuku_ streaming stick for the second time that night. Hell, he'd settle for mediocre right about now.

After all of the recent excitement on the news, everything just felt downright_ bland._

Earlier today, news had broken through about what had happened in the nearby ward of Mirai. He had been hooked from the get-go, excitedly listening into the Police Force broadcasts until the very end. Details had been left intentionally scarce, but whatever it had been set off a flurry of EMS calls, and a crapload of officers was dispatched there, including the freakin' _FRU_.

Some of the stations reported an explosion of some sort and a widespread power blackout, although they were not certain about its origin. There were no casualties, thank goodness. A prominent TV network was able to capture some drone footage of an impressive gaping hole in the wrecked street before all transmissions were forcefully cut off by the Police Force's cyber squad. Public updates were promised, but nothing had come through yet. Typical.

Of cour_se,_ the men of Kēosu's Police Force were not needed or called to action, _ever. _

Although it sounded bad and awfully morbid, it was in times like this that Mori wished something interesting and exciting would happen in this boring village. This place needed something to liven it up a notch. He was jealous of the other two officers out of town right now.

He yawned, setting up the app to replay of one of his favorite TV shows. Within minutes, his eyelids grew heavy, his cap flopping over his forehead as boredom finally took its ultimate toll. The officer was down for the count and snoring away in seconds.

_If only he knew his wishes were about to come true..._

* * *

A few miles to the southwest of Kēosu's sparsely populated city limits, the heavens rumbled. Residents of the village passed it off as the sounds of an airplane, or perhaps a pop-up thunderstorm in the more humid mountain range inland.

Officer Mori slept through it.

Intensifying with every passing moment, the rumbling turned into a raging roar just as the firmament above lit up with the brightness of a cloud-to-ground lightning strike. Illuminating a large chunk of the vicinity as if it were mid-day, it then attracted the attention of the slumbering townsfolk as even the ground itself began to tremble in protest of the events unraveling for a second time today. The anomaly took physical form as a pitch-black maw that spread rapidly across the dim, starry firmament. Lightning arced around it, swirling inwards as if it were the turbulent eye of a cyclone.

_That_ jolted officer Mori awake.

A burning, streaking ball of fire shimmered into existence at its very edges, getting spit out with incredible force. It let out a sonic boom as it gained speed upon getting repelled by the aberration, streaking in a downward arch as it left a trail of incinerated debris on its wake. At this point, stargazers throughout Musutafu had taken notice of the incredible light show unfolding over the mountains, believing it to be a harmless, stray shooting star being torn apart by the atmosphere.

Nearing and going beyond its structural limits, the transport began to shed bits and chunks of its outer hull until it split itself apart a hundred feet above ground level, the sheer velocity of its destruction setting off a tremendous downward air burst that stripped bare most of the trees below.

Two smaller devices shot out of the wreckage's unraveling remains, emerging mostly unscathed to spiral out of control. On their uncontrolled descent, they smashed against each other and the burning transport remains in an utter display of chaos. Driven by the immense momentum imparted upon them by their rough exit, they buried themselves deep into the beautiful, mostly untarnished forestry below.

Their impact had devastating effects.

A quarter-mile worth of flora and fauna were irreparably ravaged in an instant by the combined energy from the meteorite-like strike and concussive shockwave. Whatever had remained upright during the initial air burst was outright flattened and mashed apart, with even the thickest, well-set trees getting uprooted and launched away from the epicenter as if they were mere twigs.

Unfeasibly overheated as they were in their earthly graves, the burning wreckages spread forth an unholy inferno into their surroundings. The weightless cinder and enkindled organic matter were easily carried out and away by the wind, fueling the spreading ocean of death further.

Silence took an unnerving hold of the wreckage, with the smoldering, partially melting remains of the two pods remaining in place, unmoving. The eerie stillness continued for what seemed like an eternity, the entire forest devoid of all of the typical sounds of nature and life.

Within the least damaged of the two pods, a set of cerulean eyes ignited with a fierce, ethereal glow.

_**Boom**. _

An abnormally large boot effortlessly emerged from the device, turning its entry point into an airborne, twisted mess of metal that landed a few hundred feet away. Pulling his massive frame out of the useless transport, he stepped out and into the unknown. The softened, cherry-red superheated steel groaned beneath his feet as his considerable body weight shifted and bent it apart.

Thick plumes of smoke, embers, and soot climbed into the evening sky, blotting out the moonlight as the blaze continued to spread unabated. Every so often, a flare-up would offer a brief glance of his mangled form, the crimson glow from the raging inferno getting reflected off parts of his left cheekbone, mandible, and side of his skull where he was missing layers of flesh and tissue.

He paid no attention to the ever-thickening blanket of particles obfuscating his surroundings, for his vision was unaffected. Those calculating eyes remained alit like lanterns through the tenebrosity, cautiously scanning the environment.

With his safety ascertained, he moved on to locate his brethren. Within half a second, he had detected the faint energy signature. His boots crunched loudly against the compressed, burnt earth beneath, and every obstacle blocking his path got punted aside with his momentum and minimal energy exertion. A few flames licked at his legs and torso, yet he paid them no attention; his body remained intact.

_There it was._

Including life support and vital nourishment, the pod was much thicker than his own by about a foot in diameter. The hull had suffered significant damage, taking the brunt of it through the turbulent crash. It was bleeding power at an accelerated, unsustainable rate.

Sensing his presence, the energy fluctuations within spiked. _It was awake and actively developing._

Digging his bulky fingers into the outline of the pod's hinges, the metal gave way without resistance. It warped outwards and away as it was forcefully ripped off its rails, the half-ton of steel getting flung aside for him to gaze at what was of interest within it.

The pod's interior was round and heavily padded, providing significant room for the full growth of its passenger if given enough time. Both serving as a gestational chamber _and _transport, it was much more advanced—and frail as a result—than his own. A dull green creature rested within, its large head sporting two spotted protrusions. It fluttered erratically, its large bug-like eyes sealed shut. Life support systems surrounded it, with many transparent, hollow tubes pulsating as they provided it with a liquefied nutritional concoction into its bulging abdomen for rapid development.

Prior to impact, it had been contained within a round, spiked, hyper-dense chitinous shell, which rested cracked open and discarded under its insectoid body. Due to the abrupt circumstances and imminent pod failure, the lifeform was forced to expel the casing, forcing itself through a fast metamorphosis to ensure its own survival. It was rapidly transitioning from a miniature soft-bodied larval form into a better protected, scarab-shaped body coated in a cocoon-like exoskeleton, sacrificing limited mobility for rapid growth.

"Your current form is deficient." The one looming above remarked with a hint of disappointment, glowing eyes peering through the immobile creature. "Even after your emergence from this stage, you will still be imperfect. I have seen your schematics."

A set of beady, light roseate sclerae snapped open with a wet _crack_. Underdeveloped yet cunningly malicious slit-eyes glared up with pure hatred, crusty tissue spewing out of them as it put the organs to use far too early. Its frustration was palpable, even though it was too premature to communicate or lash out verbally. _It would show this inferior fool soon enough who was the superior being!_

He disregarded the angry looks thrown his way, raising a faulty hand to scrutinize it. Each finger was moved deliberately, and through their range of motion, abnormal twitches and tics emerged sporadically. "It is not only you enduring this plight of inadequacy."

It let out an outraged screech from the forming orifice soon to become a rudimentary mouth, as it siphoned more and more energy from its pod. Deep within it thrummed the desire to grow, get stronger, _become perfect. _So much potential was intertwined into its DNA from the best fighters in the world! It was just a matter of minutes before it would be ready to move forth into its next stage of evolution, and then this blasted fool would become its first meal!

He shifted his gaze back to the creature."We were built for similar purposes. To grow, develop, turn into something greater. To destroy our enemies. Unfortunately for you, your main nutrition sources are _not_ here."

It let out another foul screech of defiance. However, the weight and significance behind the spoken words sank in after some time, and the insect's wild, angry trashing halted. Its eyes twitched in confusion.

"Allow me to explain; I am capable of detecting fellow creations. The two designated sources for your evolution have been terminated or do not exist here." He stated bluntly.

That was impossible. They _had_ to exist. It would seek them even if it had to burn down the world in the process. Perfection would not elude it!

Those blue eyes did not blink nor move, fully locked onto the reptilian ones below as they bore right _through_ the creature. "Due to the varied genetic material and organic assimilation suites within you, I am certain you would surpass me if given enough time, even without consuming significant resources."

_'Of course, you blathering fool! I **am** perfection incarnate!'_

A very faint frown marred his prominent brow ridge, conflict arising from within. "I can sense subroutines within my source code resurfacing; they attempt to force me to protect you until you've reached perfection."

_'Yes, the way it should be!' _Maybe he _w__ould_ be useful.

He balled his fist, a scowl flaring through his neutral expression. "Our creators underestimated my abilities; I have now purged them _permanently_. In every scenario I've run where I allow you to live and evolve, you have betrayed me, resulting in my untimely termination."

_'Why you-damn you!' _It tried to scream, to no avail.

"This cannot be, _Cell._" Something sinister sparked behind those eyes, his hand moving down to hover above the prone, underdeveloped creation. Out of his open palm, a red, crystalline device ripped through the skin, dark tendrils comprised of twitching nano-machinery extending outwards, greedily elongating towards their helpless target.

"Unlike you, my recently acquired abilities are rather primitive and restricted. In that aspect, I am indeed inferior to you. However, I cannot and will not allow you to surpass or terminate me, and I am certain I can use a portion of your raw materials for my own advancement."

Its wild trashing resumed with renewed vigor as it grasped the imminent danger it faced. Out of resources, the lit interior of the pod dimmed and sputtered out, the last shreds of gooey, green nutrients flowing through the clear tubes and into the ravenous abdomen of the transforming cocoon. They popped off as small cracks started to form on its outer temporary shell, a new, gleaming bright green speckled exoskeleton peeking through its collapsed bits.

_Cell's_ pseudo-mouth broke free as its mind surged with emotions it had yet to experience in its short lifespan, the tissue tearing apart as a hoarse and distinctively male-sounding "No!" erupted out of it. Its old exoskeleton crumbled away further, and through that, a new body sprung forth, gaining more humanoid features. A sharp, prehensile tail unfurled, on its end resting a beige colored nub that began to swell and sharpen into its most formidable tool.

Aware of the danger it posed, the other had to take immediate action against it. Dodging three consecutive stab attempts, he grasped the needle-like appendage with moderate force. A snap ensued from within it, rendering it harmless for the time being. _Cell _let out a rasped cry of pain as it tried to will its arms to strike against the attacker. Unfortunately, they only let out a few spasmodic twitches.

He noted _Cell's_ power had now quadrupled, even as its body looked so fragile. It was now tapping into the deep wells of ki that were blooming within from all of its borrowed genetic samples. With a final scan for further changes in its DNA, _Cell_ was deemed evolved enough for processing.

A sharp yank severed the absorption organ, and it was thrown away far enough it could not be reattached for good measure. With its most formidable offensive weapon crippled, he shifted his large frame to lay a boot on _Cell's _torso, using his foot to twist the insectoid's body into its more vulnerable side, exposing a portion its pseudo-thorax. He dug his foot hard against it, pinning it down with a good portion of his massive body weight.

"B-astarrrd!" The green insectoid growled as green fluids gushed out its mouth, its lungs threatening to collapse with the sheer pressure applied to the vulnerable, slowly fracturing exoskeleton. Verdant blood leaked freely from the severed tail nub as well, further complicating its dire plight. Its frightened eyes were fixated on the moving tendrils surrounding the crystal on its fellow android's hand, now uncomfortably close to its head.

It wasn't meant to end like this. This blasted android was not meant to have these abilities! What in the hell was the computer thinking? **_Cell _**should reign supreme. _**He **_had to reign supreme, for _**he**_ was the perfect being! No other android in this or any other godforsaken world would _ever _surpass _**him**_-

Four diamond-sharp proboscises launched forward, impacting and drilling into_ Cell's_ skull, the strong bone-like chitinous layer proving useless against them. Its eyes widened further, mouth hanging open with a mix of stupefaction and indescribable pain as his body went stiff, paralyzed by unknown means. The glistening crimson crystal was now a mere inch or two from his skull, glowing with malevolent intent, the probes pulling the Bio-Android even closer for processing. Even at this distance, he could feel rivulets of energy being pulled into it.

He tried with all of his might to shift his body away from it one more time-

A sickening, slurping crunch resonated through the dead, burning forest.

_Cell_ could only gaze into the merciless eyes of his fellow android; the one meant to protect him, to ensure he'd reach perfection. Little by little, he could feel the power he had craved and longed for within abandoning him, all of his insides being ground apart and drawn away.

_It couldn't end like this! He was perfection! He..._

His newly developed, lively green exoskeleton withered away, the color fading into a sickly olive hue. Whimpering sounds of helplessness escaped his malformed mouth, and like a terrible fulminant tumor, the body decay intensified even further. Drained of most of its internal vital mass and resources, the frail outer shell turned an ashy grey, the blight claiming his unfurling insectoid legs, slowly climbing upwards into its abdomen.

_It couldn't be...this pain...!_

The essential bio-mechanical portions in his body screamed needless warnings at him, as he felt with utter despair how every shred of what made him himself was being scrutinized, bisected and cleaved apart with inhuman speed and apathy. What the other android found useless or incompatible was discarded and outright purged as scrambled DNA strands he'd be unable to recompile.

A brilliant and cunning strategy he'd be rather impressed with if it wasn't currently dismantling him at the cellular level.

Deep, hollowing cracks formed in his abdomen, the decay making it collapse upon itself. Refusing to give up, he diverted his ki into the _Namekian _heritage in his blood, desperately attempting to rebuild the lost appendages and torso. When that did not work, he focused what little power remained within to sustain his cores and vital organs instead, and above all, his ultimate survival. Perhaps if his tail-

"Do not fight it, _Cell. _Embrace your end." The giant's voice was getting muffled as _Cell's_ senses dulled, but he could still make out the infuriatingly fake soothing tone he was trying to use to persuade him.

"Abssso...lu-tely..._not!"_ _Cell_ growled out through hissed, labored breaths. The conviction did not reach his thoughts any longer, the few embers of hope flickering and dwindling away with his receding awareness. Try as he might, the primordial genetic data for cellular development simply wasn't there anymore—for every fraction of tissue that emerged anew, twice as much went away, drawn into the ever-growing, terrifying vacuum pulling at his very being. Every cell taken away stripped a part of his intelligence, his personality..._everything._

_Was this what it felt like when you were dying?_

Most of his exoskeleton was now a clump of drying ashes in the pod's cabin, with _Cell's _mostly intact head and a small portion of what passed as a neck beginning to disintegrate. Those reptilian eyes shifted around wildly, his vision now deserting him as well.

_Was it all over? How could this be? He was..._

_His name was C...Cell. _

_He...he couldn't... –_

–The blighted decay overtook his cranium, his eyes melting and falling apart into a goopy mess below as the last of vision faded with the remaining shreds of his consciousness.

* * *

Mori Kisho dashed out of the police station, hastily shouldering the main doors in his rush make it outside. He slowed down at the very last moment, saving himself from taking a painful tumble down the dark, sprawling brick steps leading to the parking lot. A line of large trees gracing the building's front yard blocked his view, forcing him to keep jogging out to the road until he had a clear line of sight to the skies.

_There. _He gasped, catching a glimpse of an object burning up, its descending path setting it to crash awfully close to the village a few miles from him. Before it even had a chance to hit the ground, it set off a burst of wind that slammed the street with enough force to make the lighting system waver and flicker. He warily stepped back and away from the shaky power lines.

_Boom._ A flash of light surged deep in the mountains, making the ground shake hard enough to make him lose his footing. Another gusty breeze hit him seconds later.

"Jesus..." He breathed out, both hands raised to cover his face from the clouds of dust. His heart was still pounding hard in his chest as the tremors receded. "What was that?"

"_Kisho, what in the hell is going on!?"_ A sleepy, grouchy, and very startled voice called out of his radio.

Kisho straightened at once. "No freakin' clue. Just got out on the street. Looked like a darn meteorite burning up or something. It crashed real close, maybe a few miles away. I'm going to take a look just to be safe." His eyes were still glued to the smoky outline above. There was a glimmer of excitement fluttering in his heart at the prospect of exploring the unknown. He still restrained himself from letting those emotions take hold; what if it was a plane crash?

The man on the other side of the line yawned, grumbling something under his breath. Once the potential severity of the situation pierced through his drowsiness, his casual tone dissipated. _"If we could feel it, it's too damn close for comfort...I'm getting ready. I'll send a request to Musutafu dispatch for backup just in case. Forward any calls their way too. Let me know the location and I'll meet you there in five to ten. Be careful, Kisho. Tensei out."_

"Yes sir, will do." Just as he let go of the radio's button, the phones at the station began to ring repeatedly. He wasted little time jumping into one of the cruisers, booting up the onboard laptop to set up the forwarding of all calls to Musutafu's larger and better-suited dispatch network. With his superior relaying the details to them, he set off in his search through the dimly lit streets in town.

He really hoped it wasn't a plane crash. His fingers tapped repeatedly against the steering wheel, his anxiety spiking through the roof as his mind overflowed with tragic scenarios and the fear of losing the trail.

For the first few minutes, he was able to easily move in its direction. Once the smoke started to fade away he had to rely on his own knowledge of the village's tricky, maze-like roads to keep moving towards it. Even then, he found himself backtracking on multiple occasions.

Turning into another street with a clear view of the skies, he slammed on the brakes. He frowned, noticing a dim orange glow was starting to overtake the pervasive darkness in the forest. Its glow intensified, and then wisps of gray smoke began to rise through the treeline. As if on cue, the street lighting ahead sputtered and died out. In the new, sudden darkness overtaking the neighborhood, the sky itself turned red.

A shiver ran down his spine as the realization hit him: _Kēosu was burning._

"Fire..." Mori murmured blankly into his radio, unable to look away.

_"Huh?" _His superior blurted out in bewilderment. _"Fire? Kisho, what in the hell is going on!?" _

Tensei's voice shook him out of his stupor. "The damn forest is burning!"

"_Shit! Where are you at?!"_

"I'm..." Kisho looked down at the cruiser's navigation suite. The GPS was offline, giving off a no signal warning. "You've got to be kidding me! We got no navigation!"

"_Go find a damn street sign then, dumbass!" _Tensei all but yelled at him, the sound of his own cruiser's tires squealing going off in the background.

Kisho squinted hard, trying to spot any road signs in the area. His headlights could barely pierce through the dark now that the roads had no lighting. He kept driving until he got to an intersection, where he was forced to turn on his swiveling spotlight to illuminate the rusted, faded sign. "Got it, it's down Kizachi Street!"

"_Kizachi-" _Tensei cursed upon recognizing the secluded area. _"Kisho__, t__hat's b__y the old mills! There are a few houses down that way! Send a distress call to the fire department and Hero Network and ping them through your radio, it should still work. That's the only road down that place. I'm already on my way!"_

"Working on it now." Kisho nervously fumbled with the device in his cruiser, typing out a hasty, urgent request to both networks. Digging his foot into the gas pedal, he engaged his emergency lights and siren, speeding off as fast as he could towards the ominous glow.

The road ahead became more and more difficult to traverse as he approached the impact site, with broken tree limbs and debris coating the two-lane street, forcing him to swerve frequently as he moved forth. He was able to travel a few hundred meters further until the roads became impassable near ground zero, his cruiser shuddering away as it ran over the worsening, uneven terrain. Old asphalt gave way to dirt and rocks as he approached what looked like a warzone right out of a movie. By now the skies were positively ignited with a terrifying crimson light.

Mori gulped, reluctantly grabbing his gun holster and first aid kit. He attached them to his belt, cautiously stepping out of the safety of the cruiser, making sure to send out a final location ping for the emergency crews before moving out. His feet felt heavy as trepidation coursed through his thoughts. He was completely out of his environment here.

Up ahead and through the shattered hillside, he could see the massive walls of deadly fire engulfing the destroyed treeline, with a large portion of the forestry around him bare of any leaves, broken, or outright gone. Luckily, the wind direction was favoring the fire's movement away from his position, so for the moment he and the homes behind him weren't in imminent danger. Sweat was already pouring down his face; the heat being given off even at this distance becoming unbearable.

Peering beyond the desolate slopes in search for the source of this incident, he was able to make out the vague shape of a crater. Within it rested an object, surrounded by flames. It didn't look like a meteorite; it was elongated in shape and parts of it gleamed like steel as if it were the hull of-

His heart skipped a beat. Was it a small airplane? Someone could be hurt in there!

He took a deep breath, willing his feet to hesitantly move forward-

-and immediately stopped, his body stiffening as he perceived upward movement out of the corner of his eye.

A dark figure arose through the flames.

"What the hell?" Mori muttered, physically recoiling as a foreboding chill traveled down his back.

The silhouette ground to a halt just above the blaze, its outline deeply contrasting against the infernal glow behind it as it observed the event unfold, seemingly captivated by the hellfire consuming the village. From this distance, Mori could only discern the eerie, almost unnatural gleam emanating out of their eyes.

He didn't dare breath nor move.

Suddenly, that sinister, unblinking glow shifted and focused solely on him. The gaze then drifted to Mori's side.

Mori hissed out a curse, his head turning to his cruiser's flashing lights. Shit. His legs refused to move, a terrible pit of fear settling itself in his chest.

He reached for his service weapon and radio.

Tuning the device to the general broadcast channel, he took a few steps back before speaking, his voice shaky. "This is officer Mori Kisho of the Kēosu Police Force requesting backup! Something's crashed into our outskirts near the mills by Kizachi Street! Potential casualties! We got a large wildfire, and—and there's someone out there! They...they're _floating_ right over the fire!"

His incredulous voice trailed off, the grip on his radio slipping as his knees threatened to buckle upon looking back up. He had dropped his gaze briefly, for no more than a second or two to adjust the radio frequency before broadcasting. In that time, they—scratch that, the _man_—had reappeared within striking distance from him without making a sound. With the fiery blaze as his background, Mori could only focus on those uncanny rings of light that bore right through him.

"You...you s-stop right there! Hands where I can s-see them!" Mori ordered shakily, his hands trembling as he aimed his weapon _up _at the suspect's torso, trying his best to keep his composure through the turmoil raging within and around him.

The warning was unheeded. The unknown assailant stomped towards him, the difference in height becoming painfully obvious now as his intimidating, bulky form towered over Kisho by at least a foot or perhaps more. His sizable boots sank a few good inches into the dirt with every step.

"Where am I?" The man queried casually, his tone abnormally serene and vacant. He threw an apathetic glance at Kisho's weapon.

"I said stop! I _will _shoot! _Dispatch! _The suspect is a male, hostile! We need—" Mori shouted as he stepped back further, his speech halting as he bumped his back against the open door of his cruiser. He was cornered.

Before he could resume the transmission he was interrupted by the giant, his voice now laced with impatience as he moved into his personal space. "I will _not_ ask again. Where am I?"

Mori cursed, switching off his handgun's safety as he braced for what might come. The man disregarded the warning, stepping even closer. "Back off...I said back the hell off! _Now!_"

Another step; a twig snapped loudly beneath his boot.

Two crisp shots rang out.

**_Crack._**

The officer let out a distressed whimper, his eyes slowly traveling down his arm to the source of agonizing pain. His hand was firmly grasped and engulfed within the assailant's own, getting effortlessly crushed. His fingers were bent and misshapen, wrapped unnaturally around the handgun. The high-grade steel put little to no resistance either, its twisted, flattened barrel poking out through the gap between the man's fingers. Sparing a blurry, teary-eyed glance at the sites where the man should have been wounded at, he found no trace of any injury whatsoever.

Through the flickers of light brought by the flames, Mori got a brief glimpse of a deep scowl. His eye sockets were ominously dark and sunken against the contrasting brilliant blue. "You will tell me where I am..._now." _

_**Crunch. **_Metal, tissue, and bone blended together in ways they shouldn't. Mori's knees gave out as he blacked out. Between lapses of consciousness, he screamed, and he did so until his throat was raw. The hold was unrelenting, and in the end, he was forced to spit out the words through grit teeth, sweat, and tears, his awareness ebbing through it all. "Kē..._Kēo...su!_"

"Elaborate. City, continent. _Now." _The sickening sound of compressed metal and flesh assaulted his ears again. Pain blossomed in his mangled hand, the pressure against it increasing yet again when he thought it couldn't worsen. He couldn't even concentrate enough to activate his Quirk to defend himself. Would his claws even do anything to this monster?

Mori's unfocused, swollen eyes snapped open, a shred of lucidity pushing through. "Please,_ please..._stop! We're...we are in _Musutafu, Japan! We are in Japan!_ I...please, don't kill me!" He pleaded and cried through strained breaths, his voice hoarse and broken.

The grip relented, and with that, he collapsed like dead weight onto the dirt. He heard the man mumble something, but the words were stifled through the misery dancing across his nerve endings.

Dragging himself back to lean against the cruiser's door, Mori sobbed as he cradled what remained of his hand. Looking at the bloody mess made him want to hurl and pull at his own hair. He diverted his attention from the unpleasant sight to cautiously watch through streaming tears as the large figure departed, rising up through the air to become a small speckle above.

Closing his eyes, he took deep breaths to reign in the pain racking his body, trying his best to not think of the gruesome wound as he dropped all of his weight against the vehicle. He was alive; that's all that mattered.

His radio buzzed with a female's voice; the words were warbled to him. The tone was professional and reassuring. Probably the Police Force, which meant backup would be here soon. His shoulders slackened as he sighed in uneasy relief-

-Until an odd whirring sound made him jump. He forced a bloodshot eye open to set his gaze skyward, where a mesmerizing yellow sphere was taking form. It shimmered, its whirring developing into a deep hum as it started to grow in size, gleaming particles being pulled into it as if it were a vacuum. He remained still, his vision transfixed on the beautiful star coming to life.

_Then it started to move._

Whatever brief spell had been cast upon him was broken when every instinct in his body screamed at him to _run_. Both of his eyes snapped wide open, the unnatural warmth and static it was producing from afar invading his senses, making the hairs on the back of his neck stand on their end with an unpleasant tingle.

A burst of adrenaline set him into motion.

He dropped hard onto his back to drag himself under the door with his good hand, crawling through the dirt and up into the driver seat. He let out a repressed hiss of pain, his crushed hand accidentally bumping against the steering wheel as he keyed the ignition and fought to shift the transmission into reverse. His foot buried itself on the gas pedal, the cruiser's rear wheels skidding hard until they got enough traction to get it moving.

Its front end swayed dangerously with his limited control and visibility; he did not care. Survival was all that mattered.

Nearing a larger clearing, he twisted the steering wheel hard, performing a blunt J-turn that nearly got him thrown into the ditch.

Peeking through the side mirror was a horrible idea. He let out another whimper as he floored the pedal, the approaching and intensifying yellow light taking up most of the reflective surface.

"_Kisho, I'm almost there! What's your status?! And...what in the heavens is that light?!" _Tensei's stressed and equally baffled voice buzzed out of the cruiser's radio.

Kisho's heart skipped a beat. He had just doomed Tensei as well. "No, no-no! Turn...turn around! T-tensei...oh God, we're so fucking dead! We're-" Kisho's wail quickly decayed into a string of delirious gibberish, his mind unraveling through the pain and overwhelming sense of impending, unavoidable doom.

He didn't need to look back anymore nor did he need headlights; the incoming miniature sun irradiated the area to the point it looked like broad daylight.

His cruiser shuddered as a gusty wave of burning, sweltering heat hit it, its movements twisting and skidding erratically as its back end lifted. One of the front tires blew out as it smashed against the shattering asphalt, which was now starting to get uplifted as if it were weightless. Its rear end came down hard, its suspension busting apart with the force. He went into a manic frenzy upon feeling the steering wheel go slack. Pumping on the brakes did nothing to slow his movement as he went on an unavoidable collision course against a concrete retention wall.

Time slowed to a crawl. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw his superior's cruiser turn into the street, the older man's panicked voice faded and jumbled through the speakers.

At that very moment, the sphere impacted the surface.

Scorching white light overwhelmed everything, and his corneas burned in an instant. A deafening detonation ensued, and every single one of his senses was overwhelmed as his eardrums burst. Officer Mori Kisho was barely able to let out a primal scream of unbridled terror and agony before he was no more, as the expanding ripple of energy mercilessly incinerated everything in its path.

Deputy Mooru Tensei fared no better. He intentionally oversteered as he slammed on the brakes, trying to force his cruiser into a drifting maneuver to escape certain death. His luck ran out when the vehicle's wheels dug into the rising, fracturing road, and instead his vehicle was sent airborne into a sideways spinning tumble. Before he could experience the grievous injuries of his crash, the blast engulfed him.

In the blink of an eye, peace in the village of Kēosu was irreparably shattered.

* * *

**MINUTES EARLIER...**

A seemingly endless, snake-like trail of fast-moving headlights shifted through the pervasive rural darkness between towns. The group of emergency responders and Pro Heroes sat quietly in the bus-like personnel carriers bracing for the worst as they sped through the dizzying uphill roads leading to Kēosu. They had just listened to what they would later find out to be Officer Mori Kisho's panicked, final broadcasts.

The small first response team already on the scene was not painting a pretty picture. The firefighting team lead by _Backdraft _had taken on the spreading wildfire, allowing the other members of the group to focus on the rescue and evacuation proceedings. It was hard not to notice the demonic crimson glow that had started to permeate the mountain range above Kēosu as they got closer, the clouds rolling by taking a similar malevolent tinge as they thickened and merged with the rising pollution.

Dishearteningly, the Pro Heroes didn't seem to be making a significant dent on the raging inferno.

Just as the group was upon the village, it happened.

A brilliant flicker of light shone through the treeline, catching everyone's attention. The flicker then suddenly exploded, growing bright enough to temporarily blind them and highlight nearby portions of Musutafu. As the explosion settled down, they couldn't help it but let out a collective gasp in horror.

An ominous, yellow dome trickled upwards into a blossoming mushroom cloud, growing tall enough to be visible from as far as Tokyo. Seconds later, a thunderous _boom _rattled them, forcing the vehicles to slam on their brakes in unison as road visibility dropped to nothing. Just as they ground to a halt, they all got buffeted by a powerful blast of hot wind, broken tree limbs, and clouds of dust and dirt.

"Dear God…" A wide-eyed EMS whispered, his hands trembling as he peered through the cracked windshield of his ambulance, the wind howling through the partially open side windows.

"This is bad…" _Death Arms_ breathed out grimly from the back of the carrier, his stern eyes reflecting the terrible glow unfolding before them. Behind him, a multitude of Pro Heroes agreed with him, murmuring to themselves and each other as they were caught off guard by the worsening incident that could be likened to a nuclear weapon going off.

The newcomer Pro Hero _Kamui Woods _stared at the hell beyond, his unease and vulnerability around fires making him queasy. He shoved those feelings aside; he would not turn a blind eye to those in need.

_Eraserhead _sat in the front passenger seat of the carrier, his brief nap abruptly ending with the commotion and sudden braking. The flash of light had set him straight in an instant, his typically dull and droopy eyes stuck wide open and unblinking. A haunted expression twisted his features, his brows sinking dangerously low in disbelief, an emotion that soon twisted into indignation as the bulletproof windshield was peppered by debris. Who would dare do such an atrocious thing?

A prevalent silence took a heart-wrenching hold of every member in the group as they became painfully aware of the sudden radio silence from the village. No phone calls, no Police Force broadcasts, _nothing. _Even the Pro Heroes on site went silent.

"Come on, let's keep moving!" A hesitant voice buzzed through the radio, stirring everyone into action as two massive _FRU_ trucks moved ahead of the convoy to serve as a debris-battering ram.

With the worst of the stormy shockwave over, the group resumed their movement through the hazy chaos towards the devastated town, their path clearly set in stone as they followed the sinister and ever-expanding cloud above. Driving deeper into the heart of Kēosu, they discovered many of the roads had become impassable with a collection of broken power lines, tree limbs, and trashed vehicles. _P__owerloader_ and _Death Arms _lend their hands as needed, moving the obstructions whenever the _FRU _vehicles were unable to plow right through them.

In a matter of minutes, they had pulled dozens of survivors into the spare carriers, the EMT teams spreading out into different zones to provide first aid while the rest jumped into the hospital-bound vehicles to assist the wounded. So far most of the injuries were superficial and non-lethal, but as they delved deeper into the hardest-hit zones where homes had fully collapsed, it all changed quickly for the worse.

Their radios buzzed with an update. Most of the Pro Heroes battling the fires when the detonation had gone off were unscathed. Unfortunately, three had needed immediate medical attention, severely dampening their efforts to stop their spreading.

_Best Jeanist's eyes_ narrowed as the partially emptied carrier resumed its pace, his memories shifting back to the events that unfolded earlier today in Mirai Ward. The news about the incident and the suspect's identity had yet to make it out to the public at large or fellow Pro Heroes that weren't directly involved in it.

If the Villain was still around, they could be in for a hell of a fight. He tapped the radio receiver on his chest, the threads in his clothing twitching in response to his unease. "_Jeanist_ here. Be extremely cautious and wary. I have a bad feeling about this. This fiend might be the one involved in the Mirai Ward incident earlier today. Tsukauchi, if you may..." He said, motioning for the Detective to take over.

Tsukauchi's solemn voice buzzed through from one of the cruisers in the back. _"_We were planning on having an urgent Pro Hero meeting tomorrow to discuss this at the Police Force HQ once it got cleared by command tonight. Based on what we've seen and heard so far, there's a near certainty this is the same Villain we encountered in Mirai Ward. Up to this point, he had no prior victims or body count-"

_"Hold on!" _One of the drivers ahead shouted for what felt like the hundredth time. Tsukauchi and the others braced for impact as they heard the loud thump of a head-on collision. Everything shuddered as they tore through multiple tree trunks on the uneven road.

"As I was saying..." Tsukauchi's slightly rattled voice continued, "We have to assume this is a clear sign of conflict escalation, and we must act accordingly. We are unsure of the suspect's full Quirk potential at the moment besides the fact he can levitate and generate a dangerous and downright lethal distortion field. What we're witnessing here might be something else altogether. I know this doesn't seem to make sense; you will have your answers soon. For all intents and purposes, consider him to be a rank A threat and _do not_ fool around, your lives might be at stake. If you engage him, it is vital that you have _Eraserhead _with you. Be prepared for anything and communicate; maximum force usage is permitted."

"Multiple Quirks?" A Pro Hero in the back murmured to himself, mirroring the thoughts surfacing through the confused group.

At this point, it would be impossible for anyone to label the connection between these two incidents as a mere coincidence. The description provided by the panicked Kēosu officer was brief, but the one Quirk mentioned sealed the deal. _Two _unrelated, _very destructive __events_ on the same day, involving someone with the ability to levitate? Fat chance.

His unscheduled, urgent meeting with Chief Tsuragamae this evening was put on hold at the moment, but now it was more certain than ever that they would take this dangerous man-and the other implications-seriously. Bringing the Commissioner General into the fray seemed like a necessity now. Things were careening out of their control and right into an unseen realm of carnage. His worst nightmare was unfolding before his very eyes.

He picked up his cellphone, glaring at the empty call history. He truly wished he had the opportunity to sit down with Toshinori and explain their plight. Alas, the Pro Hero was currently out of town and unreachable. For someone with such wealth, he sure picked the crappiest cellphone compa-

**_Ring. Ring._**

His screen lit up with Toshinori's civilian, near-skeletal form as the caller ID, and he felt himself breathing a sigh of relief. Better later than never.

_"Ah, Tsukauchi! I apologize for my temporary disappearance. My flight just landed and I uh, had a few unexpected delays on the way."_ He said, cackling amusedly. Tsukauchi knew what those '_unexpected delays' _were, and he would bet every yen in his wallet on it_. __"I am__ back in Musutafu now though. Hah, I can't believe you're actually calling me! How's everything, my friend?"_

Tsukauchi frowned, unable to echo his friend's overly cheery facade. If he was this upbeat, he had yet to listen to the multiple voicemail messages he left. "Toshi, I'm sorry but must skip the pleasantries today. I hate to say this, but we seriously need _All Might_, _now_."

The Pro Hero paused upon hearing his friend's unexpectedly grave tone, his mood plummeting. _"What's wrong? Where are you?"_

_"_Kēosu. The town's burning. There are wounded and potential casualties, and an extremely dangerous Quirk user is on the loose as well. The fire's growing out of our control."

Toshinori let out a growl as he spoke low and full of resolve. _"Understood, I am a few miles away. Do not worry..." _Tsukauchi could hear the transformation taking place as his friend's voice gained depth and that vibrant, hope-charged energy he was known for. The sound of ripping clothes helped clear any doubts. _"**For I am on my way!**"_

Tsukauchi put his phone down as the vehicles ahead stopped. They had now reached the outer rim of an enormous crater, with what once used to be a road being turned into a flattened, glass-like surface. Thick smoke gushed upward, keeping their visibility limited. An awful sense of deja vu hit him. This incident absolutely dwarfed the damage that beset Mirai Ward by several magnitudes.

It appeared as if a massive bomb had gone off on the surface, taking out a good half mile of land with it, perhaps more. The destruction spread out much further, with nary an object left standing for a few city blocks. Behind it, the mountainside burned, and it seemed the Pro Heroes attempting to control it had resigned to focus on rescues and mostly keeping the fires from moving further into town, being down a few crucial team members.

Their radio buzzed with another grim update; _Backdraft-_undoubtedly one of their best firefighting assets-had been seriously wounded in the blast and would be unable to return to his duties. Without his heavyweight Quirk, the firetrucks couldn't keep up.

_Thirteen _ran past Tsukauchi, joining the stressed men and women doing their best to hold back the blaze. Floodlights were turned on and dragged out into the scene to further illuminate the muggy, foggy area. The fires were providing enough ambiance lighting at the moment, but it wasn't enough.

"Remember, stay together and be alert!" Tsukauchi yelled out, as the remaining Pro Heroes set themselves up in a defensive line, with the _FRU _teams spreading out into the nearby area, the flashlights in their long weapons dancing around the dark smoke and up into the sky.

_Eraserhead _stayed put between the groups, his scarf lazily floating around his body, ready to act at a moment's notice. His goggles were on as well; he wasn't playing around tonight.

_Best Jeanist, Death Arms_ and _Edgeshot_ spread out with the officers, the unease sinking deep into everyone's bones as they stared at the desolation the blast had spread forth, the tension making them jittery as they braced for an attack that never came. _Ectoplasm's _clones floated over and deep into the fray, finished with the bleak number of rescues down the street. For the first time since they arrived, stretchers were only being utilized to carry the deceased.

A group of EMTs called out to Tsukauchi, pointing towards a heap of charred metal sticking out of the ground. He ran over to them, service weapon drawn out of caution.

His heart sank. It was a heartbreaking sight; although little remained of its framework, it was rather obvious that it once was a police cruiser. Through the molten, sideway smoking charred slag, the EMTs had discovered the remains of a man. Tsukauchi had to look away for a moment as the smell of charred flesh hit him. One of the paramedics hurled, while the others stepped away to avoid a similar fate.

_Vlad King _stomped over to the morbid scene, gritting his teeth in righteous fury upon gazing at the body. "The bastard is going to pay for this." He snarled.

"I highly doubt the perpetrator is here," _Eraserhead _was point-blank blunt as he approached them, sparing a downcast glance at the body. A flit of emotions danced through his face for a brief moment before his cool, neutral expression returned. "As powerful as the Villain might be, it would be absolutely irrational and _downright suicidal_ for him to try and take on all of us."

As much as he hated to admit it, Tsukauchi knew Aizawa was right; the perpetrator was likely out of here the moment it went off. Truly infuriating.

"We're clear, Detective Tsukauchi." _Ectoplasm's_ sorrowful, ghastly voice buzzed through the radio. "I have canvassed the area with _Hound Dog _and there are no signs of the suspect, or _anyone_ for that matter."

Not surprising. Very little remained of the homes nearby besides their foundations. _Death Arms _and _Power Loader _were helping the rescue team's frantic search further down the street through the rubble, but the painful, hard truth was out there. If the officer did not make it at this distance, it was likely the other nearby victims didn't fare any better.

_Thirteen _jogged back to them, panting with the effort. "We need to focus on evacuation efforts! We don't have much time!" She said with urgency.

Tsukauchi looked back towards the other Pro Heroes fighting the wildfire, noting they had fully withdrawn from their duties, the voracious fires gaining on them fast. The wind direction had shifted dramatically and was no longer favoring them. At this pace, they'd be forced to evacuate the operation within minutes.

There was no way they could be certain everyone was safe and sound unless a miracle happened.

**_"Detroit..." _**A faint, familiar voice echoed from above.

Everyone stopped what they were doing, looking around in confusion. Through the thick smoke, Tsukauchi saw him in motion. Pro Heroes and emergency responders had but a moment to shift their surprised eyes to the sound before _All Might _landed with a thunderous, earth-shaking thump.

**_"...Smash!"_** _All Might _roared, his right arm blurring as he threw a monumental punch towards the approaching wall of flames.

An enormous shockwave exploded forth, the wind pressure becoming visible to the naked eye as white moisture rings shot through it. The sudden whirlwind and vacuum left in its wake snuffed out a large portion of the flames, while the uplifted mounds of dirt falling back down stopped them from reigniting altogether. Everyone present held their breath as they witnessed the Number One Pro Hero's impossible handiwork. Not all of the blaze was extinguished, but a large swath had been completely disrupted.

No one moved.

"It's raining..._All Might_ made it rain." A dumbfounded officer remarked, his arms raised to catch the sporadic raindrops in his hands.

Sure enough, Tsukauchi then felt the droplets hit his coat, and with those, a wave of relief washed over him. The faint mist-like drizzle quickly flourished into full-on rainfall, the cloud cover above them swelling and swirling as the _Detroit Smash's _after effects drew more moisture into the ravaged area.

**_"Fear not...hope has arrived!" _**All Might clamored, his bright grin shining a beacon of hope upon everyone as he offered a thumbs up. Little by little, the deluge eroded the wildfire's stronghold upon the mountain ranges, and in minutes, most of the blaze had been drowned out.

"In the nick of time, as always." Tsukauchi stepped towards him, the faint ghost of a sad smile tugging at his lips as he heard a cacophony of cheers and clapping from the rescue teams and Pro Heroes. The worst case scenario had been averted.

**_"No biggie! All in a day's work, my friend!" _**_All Might _said, resting his fists on his hips as he towered over Tsukauchi. The white T-shirt he was wearing was soaking wet and ripped at the seams around his bulging biceps, triceps and his neck. He still wore a loose necktie, apparently forgotten in his haste to get to the village.

The Detective's visage darkened again as he glanced at the burned remains of the police cruiser, then to the rubble of former homes. A wave of despair struck him. Countless families lost their homes, their livelihood, and memories. Too many lives were lost today as well. "This isn't over yet. We need to have a serious talk...we've lost lives here. The man involved in this...this concerns you."

_All Might's_ smirk faded at the mention of casualties, his confusion growing tenfold as he struggled to fathom his own involvement. His thick brows furrowed. **_"Tsukauchi...uh, how-"_**

Tsukauchi shook his head. "Not the time nor place for this. There might be civilians still trapped and in need of help. Meet me when you're done. Go."

The Number One Hero took a deep breath, temporarily shunning the conflictive emotions aside as he let _All Might's_ trademark cool, cheery personality reassert itself. Straightening himself, he puffed up his chest as he tried to bring forth a beaming smile. **_"Right you are, as always, Detective!__ Duty calls, so...I will be right back!" _**

Just like that, _All Might's _body turned into a blur, setting off a gust of wind in his wake as he launched himself into the sky. Tsukauchi sighed, making his way back to the assemblage of emergency personnel and Police Force officers.

Another yelp nearby drew his attention to a twisted piece of metal framing, this one badly melted to the ground and unrecognizable, sitting at the very edge of the crater. Paramedics flocked to the spot, digging desperately at the remains until they got into the inner framing. They found something inside. After a few seconds, they shook their heads in sorrow.

Tsukauchi's eyes were distant as he watched it all unfold. He felt numb.

He stared at the heavens, feeling the aching turmoil gnawing at his very soul as the raindrops pelted his face. He doubted any of the men and women here would get any sleep tonight, nor that they'd soon forget what happened.

* * *

The harrowing rescue operation had wrapped up less than an hour ago.

Most of the emergency response teams and Pro Heroes had departed shortly after the arrival of the _Wild, Wild Pussycats. __Ragdoll's _remarkable Quirk combined with _Hound Dog's _sharp senses made short work of the search operation, allowing the authorities to ascertain they had rescued or recovered every resident in the village. After that, only a skeleton crew of Pro Heroes and Police Force members remained on site to keep watch and gather more evidence.

At the moment, the death toll had climbed to at least ten victims; two which were officers from the Kēosu Police Force. Officer Mooru Tensei's remains were positively identified as the victim near the epicenter. Little remained of the other body closest to the explosion, but they were all but certain it belonged to Officer Mori Kisho. All had been caught within the primary and secondary blast zones, and there was probably little anyone besides _All Might_ himself could have done to survive such a detonation, especially if one were in the primary zone.

Death by incineration was a terrible way to die, and personally, one of Tsukauchi's deepest fears.

It was almost twelve o'clock now, and his frustration levels had hit a new ceiling. He was running only on fumes and caffeine. Their quest for answers appeared to be leading them nowhere.

Toshinori, on the other hand, felt like his world was being turned upside down for the second time in years.

"What is this, Tsukauchi?" He spoke hesitantly, examining the bundle of documents offered earlier. A pencil-thin finger pushed a wet, droopy tuft out of his sight as he glared at the appalling images and data provided. Done with the public appearance and hero work, he was back to his regular form, sitting in the passenger seat of the Detective's cruiser. His clothes were soggy, his t-shirt mangled beyond repair, overstretched and shredded to pieces. Steam still billowed out of his sunken skin from overusing _One For All _for the last hour.

The grip on the papers tightened with every passing second, his visage darkening further the longer he delved into the gritty details connecting Mirai Ward and Kēosu's incidents, especially those regarding the suspect's Quirks. How could he have been completely unaware of everything that had transpired today?

His concave eyes widened even more upon reaching the death toll, the details hammering everything further into his weary heart. He could almost turn a blind eye to unscrupulous property damage, but this blatant disregard for human life? Never! Regret was eating away at him. If he hadn't been in another tour to Tokyo he could have prevented this. Granted, he had helped plenty of people in need in the last couple of days, but this tragedy cut deep. It was absolutely unforgivable that he had been unable to stop this dastardly act in time.

His shoulders slackened, the shadow beneath his eyes gaining more depth. "I should have been here," The words came out as a faint whisper.

"Don't beat yourself up about this. Even you would have struggled to make it here in time." Tsukauchi said, placing a hand over his shoulder. The strife was palpable.

"Toshinori," Tsukauchi raised his voice, only speaking after giving him some time to deal with his emotions. "We can't deny the truth staring right at us. You and I know the implications of this."

Yes, the truth was out there. However, it was an immeasurable struggle to even bring himself to acknowledge it. The details were unnervingly similar. "But he...this can't be-"

Tsukauchi interrupted him, irritation flaring at his denial. "We _need_ your help. For crying out loud, this man could levitate _and _use multiple Quirks! Think about it. _Who _could do this?"

The wielder of _One For All _winced, painful memories flooding his mind. Nana's smile came to the forefront, followed by his failure to protect her. The scars in his torso ached with phantom pain, and his chest constricted. The reality of it all sank in with dreadful finality as his while body drooped. "Shit...if you're right about this-"

Tsukauchi's tired, grave eyes met his. "-_He's_ making a move."

A spark gleamed in his eyes as a vivid memory of _his _face forced itself upon his mind. Steam gushed out from his form, his muscle mass rushing forth to fill his flesh as _All Might _let out a deep growl. The documents in his hands were crushed to shreds. He let the suppressed emotions fuel his transformation, uttering the infamous name with pure animosity in his heart, his teeth bared in a furious snarl. "_**All For One...**"_

* * *

Monitors of all sizes and shapes littered the walls of the dark room, every single one tuned in to a different news network and radio broadcast. He hummed an old song to himself, listening intently to the continuous and exhilarating chatter of hijacked Police Force frequencies and leaked media information.

A peculiar recent broadcast caught his attention. It was selected and spread out to fit every single screen.

_"We apologize for the technical difficulties. Our News 7 Helicopter has been cleared for a flyover, and with that, we are back live with the saddening news coming through from Kēosu village._ _Viewer discretion is advised. __Go ahead, Aiko." _An older gray-haired news anchor nodded, his voice solemn as the video feed cut off momentarily to display a warning for younger viewers.

Static danced across the monitors before the broadcast shifted to the footage being recorded live from the inside of a helicopter. A dark-haired woman stood precariously by the edge of its open side door, allowing the cameraman to pan out into the devastated village. Bright spotlights flashed on, shedding their light onto the calamity below. _"Thank you, Futoshi. As I was saying, the devastation throughout Kēosu is absolutely mind-boggling! Just hours ago a seemingly innocuous shooting star was reported in the area. Minutes later, their skies were tinged blood red as hellish fires ravaged everything in their path."_

The camera focused on the plumes of smoke billowing from the ashen remains of homes and other buildings, panning to the many cars stuck as molten, charred slag on the street. Most of the trees had been torn apart, and the few which remained upright were stripped bare and barely holding up. The streets were dark, with most of the village's power grid going offline with the damage. From a distance, it appeared as if a town-wide tornado had ravaged it all. Every so often, the sporadic red and blue flash of the Police Force vehicles would cut through the darkness.

Angling the helicopter forward, the crew moved further until they neared the heart of this nightmare; an enormous crater. Next to nothing remained within it or the areas around it. _"Then, a lethal explosion rocked the village. The worst damage is concentrated in this area. A wideband broadcast from a brave __Kēosu Police Force officer provided us with the first insight to these nefarious events, which are suspiciously similar to what eyewitnesses have recounted from Mirai Ward. A man, with a Quirk which allows him to defy gravity.__"_

The helicopter circled ground zero, eventually zooming out to refocus on the reporter after it had hovered over what remained of a heavily molten car. _"Rescue efforts wrapped up recently. Over sixteen Pro Heroes were involved in this incident, including All Might himself. The death toll has steadily risen, and so far we've received unconfirmed reports of at least eight fatalities, mostly centered around this zone. Officer Mori Kisho, the man behind the broadcasts, is believed to be one of the deceased. Hospitals across Musutafu have taken in the injured, with at least fifteen victims put in Intensive Care Units. A Pro Hero has been seriously wounded as well. The Police Force has refused to make a statement as of yet. We'll remain on-site to bring you the latest updates until we-"_

All of the screens paused their playback. The sound of slow clapping reverberated through the cavernous room.

"How tragic, and utterly fascinating. Bravo, young man." A smooth, velvety voice mused out loud. Medical equipment hummed and pumped away quietly behind his obscure form.

The monitor's blue glow reflected upon his scarred face, his pristine pearly whites showing further as his smirk widened. His interest had been piqued hours ago. Now, with this second incident...he was beyond enthralled. Every new tidbit discovered made his heart flutter with excitement. The similarities were uncanny, and the timing absolutely thrilling. So much havoc in a matter of hours. The authorities and Hero society were both scrambling in a panic, struck completely powerless and stumped.

Wonderful chaos. Brilliant potential and power waiting just beyond his grasp.

A glass of wine was raised, its contents being swished sporadically. "Truly outstanding. I do wish I could see your face right now, _All Might. _Surely at this very moment, you and your clueless little friends at the Police Force are throwing all the blame upon me. I am afraid we must do something about this. Still, I do wonder...what will your next move be, _Symbol of Peace?_" The last two words were spat out with thinly veiled venom and unabashed mockery.

Another screen blared to life, this time, a one-way video broadcast. He rotated the chair to face it. "Do whatever you must to find him. Perhaps give him a little test of worthiness as well. Do not kill him; I am dying to have a chat with this troublemaker..."

**A/N:**

**As I wrote this, I honestly didn't expect things to veer this dark. I like it. I know it's not the typical path of these stories but I want to explore how these events will affect both sides of the spectrum(criminal and justice) and the citizens. ****Things _will_ get better eventually...maybe. **

**Next chapter we will be returning to Gohan, and the shitstorm he'll stumble upon and get into as he recovers and attempts to explore this world. ****I meant to upload this on Sunday but I held back as I felt there were things I could change/fix(I still do). I'll try to keep my profile updated with upload dates/progress. Summer work is driving me crazy but I enjoy writing this far too much. ****Thanks again everyone, until next time!**


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